


Misanthrope

by hellamybellamy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Blood, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Gore, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 00:36:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17111108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellamybellamy/pseuds/hellamybellamy
Summary: Eowyn Kane is the rebellious, smart-mouthed daughter of Councilman Kane, the first of the Ark--along with 99 other prisoners--to enjoy the ground. She has great history with many of the prisoners, but her time with Bellamy is one of passion and heartbreak. Follow her on her adventure as she encounters love, tragedy, and, for the very first time, hope.





	1. Pilot, Part I

I USED TO WAKE UP TO THE SMELL OF SPACE-MADE, CHOCOLATE CHIP pancakes cooked up in a space-oven and the sound of Dad humming old, folk-like tunes as he pressed in the numbers. Dad never liked it, but I did not get up on time—even when I smelled his pancakes and heard his happy tunes. Sleep was something I greatly appreciated; I liked to sleep in, even when classes were scheduled, or I had apprenticing hours with Sinclair. Anyone who knew me personally knew I didn't like getting out of bed. And Dad was the one most-acquainted with my tendencies and bad habits, so he was definitely used to it, almost to an abnormal and temple-pounding extent.

But something I wasn't used to smelling was that of rocket-fluid and gaseous fumes. That was always the messy shit, something I left to the mechanics. It reminded me of why I hated The Ark so much; everything was too scientific and futuristic for me, and I preferred mathematics and history. And right now, all I saw was flashing lights and space and bland ceilings and white, white, and more white. That's all I could feel and see when I thought of The Ark, and now wasn't a great time considering the velocity at which my seat was shaking and the amount of self-control it was taking not to retch all over the damn floor. Wait—why was I shaking? Was this some sort of mayday simulation?

I snapped open my eyes, and it was like my hearing suddenly tuned into the mayhem around me. I first felt gusting fumes hitting my eyes, with the laughter and screams of criminals echoing all around me, then I blinked and saw the mini-versions of Abigail Griffin and Thelonious Jaha sitting right across from me. They were arguing, it seemed like—and mini-Abby was looking pretty annoyed right about now. Was it bad that I hoped for a little skirmish to happen? Either way, I didn't give a fuck; I just wanted to see mini-Jaha get KO'ed by the girl he'd had an unrequited love fetish for since our first year of Earth Skills.

After five minutes of staring at them and wondering why the fuck we were in a shaking bunker, I decided to reacquaint myself with my fellow privileged. "Look who it is, y'all!" I yelled gleefully. "The Ark's very own Princess Leia and Han Solo!" Sure, they didn't have the same love for each other—but the comparison was something they'd understand and yell at me for.

Clarke stopped shouting at Wells for whatever he'd done to piss in her cornflakes, and she narrowed her eyes. "Kane," she said drily. "Why am I not surprised to see you on here?"

Wells, clearly thinking he deserved to have an input, chipped in, "Weren't you supposed to be floated like two years ago?"

"Simple answer," I said with a grin. "I'm awesome, the guards are stupid, and I've been running around and sleeping in vents since they tried to float me."

Clarke and Wells looked like they didn't believe a single word leaving my mouth. "The Ark isn't that stupid," Clarke said bluntly, eying me like I was the idiot here.

I sniffed at her, mocking her privileged attitude by tilting up my head and throwing her a snobbish scoff. "You're just sad that Wells is the only guy who wants in your space pants."

Was it possible for someone's face to be so red? Clarke resembled the damn sun, her cheeks brightly lit with an embarrassed flush. My mission accomplished, I smiled widely and wiggled my aching fingers at her—which she probably didn't notice, but still caused my body to shake with laughter. Before I had another chance to publicly jeer at the fuckers, the ship began to rattle and shake harder than before, the lights flickering. Then, within five seconds at the most, the lights flashed back on and the bunker stopped rattling.

Clarke breathed, "What was that—" but before me or Wells had a chance to answer (me sarcastically, and Mini-Jaha with desperate, woeful worship) something large and technological flickered on in the corner of the bunker. And what do you know; Dumbnut-Jaha came on the screen!

"Prisoners of the Ark," the asshole greeted, sounding like an announcer for a damnation trial in the depths of Hell, "hear me now. You've been given a second chance. As your Chancellor, I hope you see this as not a chance for you, but a chance for all of us. Indeed—for mankind itself. We have no idea what is waiting for you down there. If the odds for survival were better, we would have sent others. Frankly, we're sending you because your crimes have you expendable."

Damn! Ice-cold. I looked at Wells with a smug, if-only-you-were-more-like-me look, and wiggled my fingers (which were caught under metal, and were bound to a torture-device-looking wristband). He gave me the foulest, nastiest look a boy of such renowned prestige was capable of, and I merely coughed out a, "Your dad sucks."

Someone else had a similar idea. Just as I said my own statement, a boy within the bunker shouted out, "Your dad's a dick, Wells!"

"Finally, someone with common sense around here!" I said loudly, giving the surrounding teens a wide birth and a wicked smile. Then I stopped being my normal self, and looked at Clarke with a serious look to my eyes. "What is this? Why are we going to Earth?" Sure, Dumbnut-Jaha gave a brief description, but Clarke was a big and mean authoritative figure; if she didn't have someone asking her for help, she was basically fucked and left useless. I was just trying to be nice while also getting an answer to what the hell this metal contraption was.

"Aren't you a mechanic, Kane?" Wells asked from beside Clarke, giving me a weird look.

"Your attitude is not appreciated, Mini-Jaha," I said, sniffing with annoyance. "I was an engineer, and it sure as hell wasn't for big balls of metal to go hurtling into space."

With a sigh at the small argument I got into with Wells, Clarke spat out, "It's a dropship."

From over at the screen, Dumbnut-Jaha continued. "The drop site has been chosen carefully. Before the war, Mount Weather had a military base built within the mountain which was supposed to be stocked with enough perishables to sustain three-hundred people for up to two years."

In all honesty, I didn't like the sound of having a mission the moment we arrived in Death Valley, especially since Earth this time of year sounded like a freaking death sentence—but I supposed I'd just roll with it. Why not? Not like I'd have anything better to do when we get there.

Before I could reflect any more on such a tangent, I saw a young, easily-familiar boy unstrapped from his seat and floating around in the air of the bunker—I mean, dropship. I grinned at the sight; if I didn't have a fucking cuff that was killing my wrist, I would have totally yelled out and asked him for a high-five.

"Finn, my man!" I called out, laughing with surprise as how effortlessly he was floating through the air. He looked over and gave me a wink when he noticed my gaze. Then he floated over to the two stern-faced losers across from me. I gave another spurt of laughter at the faces Wells and Clarke made when Finn stopped right in front of them.

"Hey, Wells," Finn said cheekily, and I knew something stupid was going to come from his mouth. "Looks like your dad floated me after all."

I coughed and smiled against the pain of laughing so hard. I bit my lip, firmly, when I noticed the sneer Wells sent Finn at the sound of "dad" and "float."

"Strap in before the parachutes deploy," Wells said drily, ignoring the laughs from everyone around him. He truly did employ that same emotionless persona his father had. It explained why he never had any fun or went to any parties.

Two boys, one dark-skinned and another light-skinned, both began to unstrap themselves from their seats, and that was when I felt the rattling in the ship intensify just barely. I swallowed, the sound unnoticeable, and I felt myself understanding why Wells and Clarke were so adamant on sticking in on Finn and the other two guys' fun. I feared for Finn, suddenly, and I couldn't say I disagreed when Clarke barked out, "Keep yourself strapped in if you want to live!"

I never did like agreeing with Clarke. When we were younger, I always refused to play freeze-tag with her anytime she called me dumb or enforced something her precious daddy told her. It was something I did just to see her face get red and her mouth scream out, "Mommy!" So instead of supporting her claim on death awaiting those not strapped in, I smoothly drawled, "Never thought you were into bondage, Griff."

Clarke scowled. Whether it was at the heavy implication or the nickname, I didn't know. Either way I felt immensely pleased with myself, and my worries for the guys floating through the air washed away.

Finn heard Clarke's shout at the other two guys, and he floated to in front of her. He was scrutinizing her, like he was trying to find out what exactly he knew her from, before it clicked for him. "Hey! You're the traitor who's been in solitary for a year!"

"Yeah. And you're the idiot who wasted a month of oxygen on an illegal space-walk," Clarke retorted drily.

Finn laughed. "It was fun," he teased, then stuck out a gravity-influenced hand. "I'm Finn."

Clarke just gave him an annoyed frown. Before she could honestly shake his hand or make some witty comment, there was a harsh jolt that even dead men would feel. I instinctively shoved my head against the backboard of the seat, watching in horror as Finn and his space-walking followers flew to the back of the dropship, where only metal walls ran to greet them.

"Finn!" Clarke cried. "Are you alright?"

Everyone was yelling in fear, the parachutes definitely having deployed just now. Finn and the two boys were being unresponsive, and I could only assume the worst as I clamped my eyes shut and moved my aching hands up to cup my ears. I heard metal creaking, and I felt the skin cells on my arms being burned as sparks of fiery-hot metal rained down on us like the Devil's wrath.

"Retrorockets ought to have fired by now!" Wells yelled.

"Everything in this ship is old, right? Just give it a second!" To me, it sounded like Clarke was trying to convince herself.

Mini-Jaha's voice sounded shallow, apologetic, and hurtful as he begged her attention. "Clarke, there's something I have to tell you! I'm so sorry I got your father arrested." There was more to the story, I knew, but this wasn't any of my business.

Clarke whipped her head towards Mini-Jaha and glared. "Don't you talk about my father!" she snapped.

"Please," Wells pleaded. "I can't die knowing that you hate me."

That was so rich coming from him, especially after what happened to Jake. Clarke shouted, "They didn't arrest my father, Wells; they executed him! I do hate you!"

The dropship began to fall faster now, reaching an acceleration that I couldn't keep track. I didn't want to acknowledge the chances of dying, in all honestly, or the probability of there being an immediate, fiery death. I breathed in and out, my heart beating like it was in the middle of a galloping race, and I removed my hands from my head and held onto the metal arms. I was freaking the hell out, honestly thinking I was going to die.

Then, there was nothing. The dropship stopped shaking, and steam released from the ceiling and filtered out into the atmosphere; sparks no longer sprinkled to the ground, the exhaust depleting their life. I slowly released my arms from their defensive position, and I gazed around slowly. I didn't have the energy or will to make a comment, or jeer at Dumb and Dumber.

"Listen," a nearby Asian boy said, with an awed look, "no machine hum."

The boy beside him, a brunette with googles, mused, "Woah. That's a first."

Murmurs went around in surprise and softened joy, and a recovery of their wits occurred among the delinquents. Instead of joining, I merely observed. A look of curiosity swept across my face as I watched Clarke unstrap herself then rush over to where Finn and the two boys had been thrown at the start of the sudden turbulence. Finn was alive and conscious, but the two boys... were lying on the ground.

I craned my neck a little to look over at them. A look of slight curiosity crossed my face when I heard Clarke ask, "Finn. Is he breathing?"

The silence was thick and awkward—full of tension. And when I glanced over, I could see the look of guilt and regret that adorned Finn's handsome, boyish features. He shook his head gravely at the blonde girl in front of him. She merely gave him a sympathetic glance before she turned to head towards the metal ladder that led to the bottom half of the dropship.

I slowly unstrapped myself from the side of the dropship, my eyes blinking as I stretched and readjusted myself to the foreign feeling of walking on two legs. I A groan left my lips, and I muttered, "Jesus fucking Christ..." When I still lived with my father, he always got onto me for swearing so much, but I used to always tell him that it was because his mere existence gave me a reason to curse mine. It used to hurt his feelings, but he sure as hell didn't give a shit when they threw me into a cell.

I slowly and meticulously crossed the room, and I went down the ladder without a thought to the process. The bottom half of the dropship was filled with people, and I loudly exclaimed, "Make way—Queen of Shit-Talk, coming through!" People gave me deadpan expressions as I passed, but I barely gave a shit; I threw up a nice middle finger when I noticed their rude, lingering gazes, and I arched my eyebrows suggestively when they returned the gesture.

A familiar guy was leaning back against the door of the dropship, and I had to force myself not to blurt out his name or question his strange, gelled-back hairstyle. Instead, I slowed my steps and quieted my breathing as I got near the front, and I left myself in a state of curiosity as I wondered why he was here—wait, wait, wait. This was Bellamy Blake, brother of Octavia Blake. Obviously, he came for his sister. Even though I knew this fact, I still hoped I was a smidgen of the reason. Bellamy and Octavia were good friends of mine—which was always a bemusing predicament, considering my dickhead of a father. Even more strangely, I'd managed to avoid execution eight different times just by flirting with the guards or forcing my father to negotiate. It always worked, somehow. And that made me the second oldest person on this ship. Wait, why did this just now occur to me?

Bellamy barked out, "Hey, just back it up, guys."

Clarke being... well, Clarke didn't like the authority this apparent troublemaker was trying to hold, so Mama-bear Clarke and her following cub Wells had to come to the front, just to argue with him. "Stop," she said to Bellamy firmly. "The air could be toxic."

I couldn't hold it anymore. I wryly told her, "Better than the Ark's artificial oxygen."

Clarke spared me a nasty look while Bellamy glanced over, his eyes sparkling with unfamiliarity, then uncertainty, then a slight bit of sadness. However, there was no need to worry about who the fuck I was. He had Mama-bear Clarke to go head to head with—and let me tell you, Bellamy loved arguing. He especially liked winning. "If the air's toxic, we're all dead anyway," he told her with an annoyed look.

Before Clarke could lick her wounds and start up something else, a voice came from the crowd, just a few rows behind me: "Bellamy?"

I didn't need to look to know who the source was, and I certainly didn't need to blink my somewhat-dry eyes to know I'd soon start crying. I just watched as Octavia pushed through the crowd and came to stand in front of us. I examined her back, noticing how long her hair had grown—how she'd easily surpassed my short stature, and was now an inch or two taller than me. I let out a shaky breath, wishing I'd been there to see her grow up the past two years. I wished I could have saved her from being arrested.

Bellamy blinked in surprise as Octavia came into his vantage, and he looked overwhelmed with joy and happiness. "My God," he whispered. "Look how big you are."

Octavia ran into his open arms, nuzzling herself into his torso to give her big brother a well-needed, long-awaited hug. Before long, she pulled back. Her eyes shifted to his guard's uniform, and a laugh seemed on the tip of her tongue. "What the hell are you wearing—a guard's uniform?"

I mumbled to myself, "What the hell else would it be—a slip dress?" I would have paid to see Bellamy in a dress.

Bells smiled at Octavia, and a laugh freely came from his throat. He seemed too afraid she'd disappear, so he kept his hands interlocked on her elbows. "I borrowed it to get on the dropship. Someone's got to keep an eye on you!"

Incoming, incoming! Mayday, mayday! Clarke to the freaking rescue, with her unnecessary and unwanted comments! She loudly asked, "Where's your wristband?"

Octavia glared at Mama-bear Clarke and snottily said, "Do you mind? I haven't seen my brother in a year." She looked on the verge of asking Clarke a question, but her eyes turned sorrowful. She bit her lip and sighed out, anger still in her expression—but that sadness was still there, similar to Bellamy's.

A boy from the back said, "No one has a brother." Couldn't he see the resemblance? Dumbass.

Then a female—a girl who sounded vaguely familiar—yelled out, "That's Octavia Blake, the girl they found hidden in the floor!"

I didn't even think; I turned around and punched that bitch in the face. I recognized her as Emilie Wilde, a girl that's loathed me since I was seven. "Look, it's Emilie Wilde, the girl they found cradling her nose like a little bitch!" I said sarcastically, gesturing towards her like she was an animal meant to be gazed and gawked at.

Emilie stared up at me in bemused silence, and indeed, she was cradling her nose. I think I may have broken it. Oh well—Clarke would be the only one who bothered to sympathize.

I looked around me to see everyone staring at me with the same expression as Emilie—all except Wells and Clarke, who sent me accusing glares, and Bellamy and Octavia, who looked like they were trying to remember me from somewhere. In the meantime of their analyzation, I decided to sweetly say, "You might want to clean the blood up, Clarke. It could cause permanent damage without the same gravitational pull on it." I widened my eyes in mock-fear. "Wouldn't want that, now would you?" Clarke merely glared, then wordlessly went over to the girl. Always the perfect little doctor's aid, just like her mother.

Bellamy finally said, "Still has that same damn snark." I looked over to see him staring at me with heated eyes and I looked away at their implication. Memories, memories, memories; weren't they such horrid, woeful things? Trying to forget only intensified their effects—and damn, did I want to forget the unsaid words and physical affection that went on between Bellamy and me just months and months before... now cold, but never forgotten. 

Octavia seemed intent on heading over and giving me a hug, but Bellamy quickly tugged her back. "How about we give them something to remember you by?" He was obviously talking about Emilie, who was still sitting on the floor with a bloody nose.

Bellamy's smile was reassuring and full of mischief, but as expected, Octavia was still in disbelief. "Yeah? Like what?" Maybe she was still reeling over Emilie's comment; I wouldn't be surprised.

"Like being the first person on the ground in a hundred years."

It was ninety-seven, but I wasn't going to interrupt a moment between brother and sister, specifically the pair who hadn't seen each other in months. Instead, I watched with baited breath as Bellamy slammed open the door to the drop-ship. What we first saw was sunlight, a glorious beam that shot into us and stiffened the hairs of our skin. Then we saw green—more and more green, fields and fields of trees and shrubs. Octavia looked in utter awe at the sight before her. And best of all, we weren't dying of no damn radiation.

"Ah..." the girl of the hour exhaled, then she stepped onto the dropship's platform. She slowly, slowly, slowly walked down the platform... before she hit solid, grass-ridden land. A breath was inhaled, then a pair of limbs were thrown up in celebratory excitement. A gust of air blew into the dropship, and with it came the words— "We're back, bitches!"

I heard the shouts, and I quickly stepped to the side before I could be trampled. The only ones left in the dropship after that were me, Emilie, and Clarke. Clarke was finishing on drying the blood on Emilie's nose.

"When we get time, I'll bind it," Clarke was trying to explain, but Emilie wasn't having it.

"I don't want to look like a damned damsel in distress!" she shouted at her. "I'm fine." Before Clarke could say another word, Emilie sprinted out of the drop-ship. I quickly followed, apprehensive at the idea of trailing someone of Emilie's caliber, but also not wanting to be in the same room as Clarke Griffin.

As I finally left the cruel, suffocating ship meant for expendable justice, I felt a crisp breeze flow through my hair strands, then another collide with my skin. So _this_ was Earth. And damn, was it beautiful.


	2. Pilot, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A group goes on the hunt to Mount Weather, but finds more than they were expecting.

**CLARKE WAS QUICK TO DRAIN ALL THE FUN OUT OF OUR** excitement and amazement the moment she exited the dropship. She pushed by me and my star-struck figure, taking a mere moment to bask in the beauty before she seemed to stiffen. It was weird and somewhat-predatory to stare so heatedly after her, but I truly found her behavior odd. That was the only reason for my sudden need to follow her with more than just my eyes—and so action shadowed my characteristic needless stalking.

Clarke had out a charter, something I assumed Chancellor Dickhead provided as a navigator through Mount Weather. However, Clarke seemed troubled. If the notorious know-it-all was troubled, then surely, there was something terribly amiss. Well, usually that was the case; sometimes Clarke was just melodramatic and made mountains out of teensy, tiny molehills. I hoped to God that was the case for this unfortunate expression and frantic routing of hers.

Finn, our resident, ever-so-vigilant Spacewalker, came up to Clarke and popped his head around her shoulder. His eyes scanned the map with disinterest before he smiled at Clarke. "Why so serious, Princess? It's not like we died in a fiery explosion."

Clarke's expression was entirely deadpan. "Try telling that to the two guys who tried to follow you out of their seats." So ice-cold the words were _frosting_ , right there. If she continued to insult and hurt everyone that showed interest in her, then she was on the right track of being completely alone! Or maybe there were people out there who had a thing for frosty attitudes. Anyway, I digressed...

Finn laughed and slowly, he retraced his steps and moved away his head. I saw the flicker of hurt in his eyes, though; he wasn't fooling anyone with his nonchalant brush-off. "You don't like being called Princess, do you, Princess?"

Clarke deliberately ignored him and whipped around to face the expanse of woods. She pointed at a mountain somewhere in the distance. "Do you see that peak over there?"

Finn nodded, not seeing the big picture. In all honesty, I didn't either. "Yeah."

Clarke scowled, but the scowl wasn't directed at him. Frustration was evident in the purse of her lips and the creasing of her eyes. That was the moment I realized that melodrama wouldn't _begin_ to describe this predicament of expressions and verbal banter. "Mount Weather," Clarke said bitterly. "There's a radiation-soaked forest between us and our next meal. They dropped us on the wrong damn mountain."

I took that moment to approach. As it just so happened, Wells decided to come forth with a bowl of intelligent chitchat. I usually just assumed that Wells would break into a soliloquy on why he deserved her terrible treatment but still wanted to be forefront in her list of "Love Interests." But surprisingly, Wells didn't just live and breathe Clarke; he was rather intelligent, for someone so negligent, ambivalent, and self-righteous. Wow, a whole lot of cons there---any surprise the two were still single of each other? "We got problems," said Wells, his brow furrowed together. "The communications system is dead... I went to the roof. A dozen panels are missing. Heat fried the wires."

Clarke barely spared the guy a glance. "Well, all that matters right now is getting to Mount Weather. See? Look. This is us. This is where we need to get to if we want to survive."

"Where'd you learn to do that?" At the look Clarke was wearing, Wells dropped his voice into a low, baritone whisper: "Your father..."

I smiled at the three, looking between Finn and Wells with a raised-brow, smug-eye look, then drawled out, "Seems like you all have found yourselves in a little pickle. Well, a big pickle. Tell me, when will we go hiking? I'm sure there's a bunker around here with some beer." I read about bunkers back at the Ark; any type of alcohol sounded good, even if the kind down here was over nine decades old.

Clarke rubbed her hand over her face while the boys rolled their eyes at me. "Please, Eowyn. Now is not the time," Clarke said nastily.

I raised my hands in defense as a duo of boys came up to us, one of Asian descent and another with goggles. The boy with goggles smiled cheekily at us, then glanced down at the map. His eyes came alight, filled with excitement. "Ah, cool, a map!" he exclaimed, then put his arm around Clarke. "They got a bar in this town? I'll buy you a beer."

Wells, wearing an annoyed expression, came forward and shoved Goggle Boy. "You mind?" he snapped, the jealousy made extremely obvious. He had always been overprotective of Clarke, and she never appreciated it—especially when it came to nice guys like this dude. If the irritation on her face was anything to go by, then she was not happy with him.

Goggles stumbled backwards, holding his hands up high. "W-Whoa!"

Suddenly, a band of arrogant douches joined the party. The one in front was someone I instantly recognized—someone I loathed, yet found myself, albeit begrudgingly, sympathetic towards: John _fucking_ Murphy. "Hey, hey, hey," he said, coming in with his hands up in a gesture of faux peace, "hands off of him. He's with us."

Wells recognized the criminal stances and fight-picking about to go down, so he took about five steps back. "Relax. We're just trying to figure out where we are," he said, trying--and failing--to sound calm.

I had to hold my excitement when a familiar brother-sister duo came up, the two of them in similar postures with identical expressions. "We're on the ground," Bellamy said loudly, attracting the attention of everyone around us. When he caught my gaze, he gave a genuine smile that turned instantly into a smirk when he saw the prisoner party looking at him. "That not good enough for you?"

"We need to find Mount Weather. You heard my father's message. That has to be our _first_ priority," Wells stated.

Octavia scoffed and put herself front and center. "Screw your father. What, you think you're in charge here, you and your little Princess?"

I smirked and laughed, loudly saying, "Of course they do. They aren't Abigail Griffin and Thelonious Jaha's _ringers_ for nothing!"

Clarke shot me a glare that basically read, _Stop instigating trouble, Kane._ "Do you think we care who's in charge? We need to get to Mount Weather not because the Chancellor said so, but because the longer we wait, the hungrier we'll get and the harder this'll be. How long do you think we'll last without those supplies? We're looking at a twenty-mile trek, okay? So if we want to get there before dark, we need to leave now."

Did she really think they were listening? In all technicality, I was considered a "Privileged" too, but even I did not see in a point in wasting energy on a mountain twenty miles.. Truthfully, this forest seemed pretty vast and healthy to me; living food _had_ to await us in the leaves. All we had to do was make some knives and learn how to kill without crying over a carcass. We didn't _need_ to bother with Mount Weather, not while risking lives in an area we had yet to figure out.

Bellamy came forward, Octavia following him, as he made his presence and stance known. "I got a _better_ idea. You two go, find it for us. Let the privileged do the hard work for a change!" Delinquents cheered in agreement—basically the equivalent of the term "raising their glasses."

Emilie, still cupping her swollen nose, stood at the front of the circle that had surrounded us. She pointed at me accusingly, seeming to want to start trouble--a fight she wouldn't win, let alone _finish_. "What about her? She's privileged too!"

Bellamy looked ready to jump to my defense, if his flaring eyes were anything to go by, but I shut Emilie down with a solid, "Do you need matching purple eyes to keep that damn mouth of yours shut?" Violence was _always_ the answer when needing to deal with assholes like her.

Wells raised his hands in a friendly, _we-mean-no-harm_ stance, shuffling forward. "You're not listening. We all need to go."

Murphy, the little shit, came to meet Wells and pushed him— _hard_. "Look at this, everybody... The Chancellor of Earth."

Wells scowled. "Think that's funny?"

The two of them began to fight, and Clarke let out a snappish, "Wells!" Even when his life was on the line, Clarke seemed intent on being as bitchy and negligent as possible. I wasn't paying much attention to the fight until Murphy suddenly swiped Wells's leg from under him, leaving him injured and defenseless.

Wells let out a cry of pain. "Ah!"

Murphy smirked, seeming very proud of himself, watching as Wells struggled to his feet. "No, but that was. All right." Then he approached. "Come on! Come on!" Deadly intent was evident by the malicious look on his face, but the sudden appearance of Finn made him stop short in his tracks.

Finn looked at Murphy with his eyebrows raised, daring him to come a single inch forward. "Kid's got one leg. How about you wait until it's a fair fight?"

And that was the end of the fight. Murphy sulked from the scene with his tail between his legs, his lapdogs following behind, while the crowd went back to frolicking around the radioactive clearing.

Bellamy stood there, looking intimidating as hell in his swiped guard suit, while Octavia skipped close to Finn and wiggled her fingers at him. "Hey, Spacewalker!" she called. "Rescue me next." Finn smiled at her and waved back.

Octavia turned back to her brother and stopped smiling. "What? He's cute."

"He's a criminal," Bellamy said with a frown, and I decided it was my cue to reunite.

I popped up in front of the siblings and laughed. "I'm a criminal, Freckles; does that mean you don't like me?"

Bellamy blinked in surprise at my sudden appearance while Octavia let out a loud squeal and barreled into me. She wrapped me into a big hug and jumped, bringing me up and down with her. "Oh my God, I knew I seen you! I knew it. But when you didn't come up and talk to Bells and me, I thought you weren't... you!" She pulled back and looked me from head to toe. "How'd you get caught, E? I thought you had mastered the art of... well... not getting caught!"

I shrugged. "Shit happens. I got caught in the vents. Dad didn't want to bust me out because he thought I was tainting his image. And well, here I am!"

"Here you are," Bells cut in softly, giving me a warm look from over his sister's shoulder. He pushed her aside and pulled me into a bear-hug, one that was full of warmth and care. I returned it eagerly, burying my head into his chest.

"I missed you, Freckled-Ass," I said with a cheeky grin, pulling back to grin up at him.

He rolled his eyes at the nickname and laughed. "I missed you, too, Short-Stack," he teased, and I playfully shoved him.

Octavia looked between us with a smug look on her face before she bit her lip and lightly poked at Bellamy's shoulder. "So... I can't date a criminal?"

Bellamy sighed in exasperation and gently pulled back from me. A determined look on his angular features, he turned and looked at his sister. ""Look, O. I came down here to protect you."

"I don't need protecting," Octavia burst out. "I have been locked up one way or another all my life. I am done following orders. I need to have fun, Bell. I need to just do something crazy just because I can, and no one, including you, is gonna stop me."

I came to stand between the two as Bellamy's features softened. "I can't stay with them, O," he said.

My face dropped, and so did Octavia's; we both stared at him in bemusement. "Now what are you talking about?" Octavia asked.

Bellamy's voice dropped a tone, and he looked around, as if watching for an eavesdropper. "I did something, okay, to get on the drop ship, something that they will kill me for when they come down. I can't say what it is just yet, but you have to trust me. You do still trust me, don't you?"

Octavia nodded. "Yeah."

He looked at me expectantly, and it took a moment for me to realize he wanted my affirmation that I trusted him, too. I smiled and gave a thumbs-up. "Of course, Hells-Bells!"

Bellamy's eyes narrowed, but his chocolate-brown irises glinted with amusement. "Good," he murmured, his warm, gentle hand reaching forward and squeezing my shoulder. I wanted to say something more, but my conscience and my larynx didn't get the chance...

Over by the dropship, Clarke and the boys were suiting up for their food-getting extravaganza. Finn jerked Greenie and Googly-Brow into their group, and Clarke seemed to justify her cause for not wanting Jaha Junior on Mount-Weather-duty. "Four of us! Can we go now?" Finn said, in a rush.

Octavia, her expression bubbly and mischievous, skipped up to the group and chirped, "Sounds like a party! Make it five."

Bellamy's entire torso stiffened, and he jerked his head to the side. He slowly released my shoulder blade and started forward. He hissed, "Hey, what the hell are you doing?"

"I hate to agree with Freckles," I drawled, walking up to the siblings, "but indeed. What the hell, Tavia?

"I'm just going for a walk," Octavia said innocently, flashing us her pearly-whites. Part of me believed her only reason for joining was to be near Spacewalker.

I wasn't going to allow her to go on an adventure without a supervisor who wasn't a douchebag, stranger, or space-walking imbecile. I aimlessly yelled out, "Sign me up!" Was it smart to join a group of young amateurs? Was it right to so readily leave Bellamy, just when we were about to talk? Truthfully, I wasn't paying any real attention to the things that left my mouth; I was positive my comrades and enemies alike had noticed. Bells sure as hell did.

Bellamy gently tugged me back by the cloth of my jacket. "Eowyn," he said lowly, eying me like I was clinically insane. Maybe I was. He tugged me closer than he ever had, and clasped his strong hand on the nape of my neck, forcing my eyes to directly meet his with a tug and twist. "Wouldn't it be best to stay here?" he asked softly.

I looked over at the criminals as they readied up and gathered the appropriate gear for our mission. I didn't stray my vision from Octavia as she skipped over to them. "It would," I said quietly. I was being quick-to-the-draw and unreasonable. My eyes flickered away from O, and I looked into Bellamy's strong, chocolate gaze. Against my will, a small smile quirked against my lips. "But somebody's got to look out for O."

"But who's going to look out for you, Eowyn?" Bellamy wasn't ready to let this go. And honestly, I was hanging onto my last hair of stubborn resilience.

Before I could drop my head and submit to Bellamy's concerns, Octavia came up to us. "It's time to go, E," she said with an eager smile.

Bellamy's face dropped, and his grip loosened on my shoulder. "Go on," he said, voice no higher than a sigh.

O's hand replaced Bell's, and she gave her brother a mock-kiss. "Mwah!"

"We'll be careful," I swore to him, O's arm looped through my elbow. My stomach weighted down with guilt, and it took all of my self-restraint not to fall away from Octavia's grip and run into Bell's arms. I couldn't stand to see him worry; it was one of my weaknesses.

But Bellamy seemed a lot stronger than I gave him credit for. His worry-wrenched brow had dropped into a soft smile, and his eyes gleamed with an emotion I couldn't place. "You better!" he called to me playfully.

Octavia and I nearly disappeared into the chlorophyll-green shrubbery, but O pulled us to an abrupt stop next to Clarke. "Before you get any ideas, Finn is mine," she said to her.

Clarke, a scowl on her lips, threw O a tired reply: "Before you get any ideas, I don't care."

Anyone could catch the "We'll see"-reminiscent gleam in O's eyes. I most certainly did. And she dragged me through the green and down to where our group was, more determined than I'd ever seen her in my entire life. I didn't doubt that she'd pick a bone with Clarke at least one more time while we were retrieving the food.

We'd been walking for maybe thirty minutes, Clarke in front with the rest of us walking a leisurely place, when a conversation decided to arise. Finn had just placed a pretty-looking flower in Octavia's hair, Octavia was looking up at him with affection, and Goggles was lapping at the mouth in jealousy.

Goggles muttered to the Asian boy—Monty, I think his name was— "Now that, my friend, is game."

Monty gazed at the flower contemplatively for a moment before saying, "That, my friend, is poison sumac."

Octavia's face went blank and she quickly tore away the flower from her hair. "What?! It is?"

We all had dropped to a less-brisk pace. "The flowers aren't poisonous. They're medicinal—calming, actually," Monty briefly explained, twiddling with a flower.

I looked at Monty with surprise and a little bit of suspicion, which Goggles seemed to have caught. "His family grows all the pharmaceuticals on The Ark," he told me.

"Why does that not surprise me?" I asked sarcastically.

Clarke turned to us, and it suddenly registered to me how slackened our pace had become. "Hey, guys, would you try to keep up?"

Spacewalker turned to look at her, a cheeky smile on his face. "Come on, Clarke. How do you block all this out?"

I let out an exaggerated yawn when I noticed the self-righteous look that crossed her features. Clarke took a brief moment to scowl at me before she gestured to the trees above. ""Well, it's simple. I wonder, 'Why haven't we seen any animals?' Maybe it's because there are none. Maybe we've already been exposed to enough radiation to kill us. Sure is pretty, though. Come on." She resumed walking, brisk and impatient.

Octavia leaned towards us. "Someone should slip her some poison sumac," she muttered.

Goggles snorted, Spacewalker grinned, Monty held back a laugh, and I giggled behind my palm. Leave it to Octavia to unconsciously become my spirit animal.

We started walking again, like a group of friends left in a comfortable science. Then Spacewalker pointed his finger between Goggles and Monty. "I got to know what you two did to get busted."

The duo exchanged looks. They seemed a bit pleased with themselves, to be quite frank. "Sumac is not the only herb in the garden, if you know what I mean."

Goggles threw his friend a look of accusation. "Someone forgot to replace what we took."

"Someone has apologized, like, a thousand times."

The boys turned to look at me, curiosity on their faces. "What about you, Kane?" Spacewalker asked.

Of course, they had to ask. An unenthused look on my face, I begrudgingly uttered, "I accidentally set half of Mecha Station on fire. And, you know, I stole a bunch of shit I shouldn't have."

Spacewalker looked like he wanted to ask questions, but Jasper quickly said, "How about you, Octavia? What'd they get you for?"

If I didn't have any dignity, I would have face-palmed. Someone's little crush blinded him from the obvious.

Octavia threw everyone near her—including me, actually—a disgruntled scowl. "Being born," she grunted. She stomped forward, then, looking like she preferred Clarke's company over Goggles's. Who could honestly blame her?

Monty disapprovingly said, "That is so not game."

"Agreed," I mumbled, tossing Goggles a frown. There was a certain feature of guilt in his face, but I denied myself time to contemplate such a matter; instead of caring, I jogged forward. I didn't get too far, however, because the sight of Clarke crouched by a tree halted me in my tracks.

I approached the two with soft footsteps echoing behind me. Clarke put a finger to her mouth and shushed us, before she pointed at a sight just yards away from us. There was a beautiful deer right there, standing and breathing and living. It was gnawing at the ground, its throat moving as vesicles of tissue moved in the process of eating; no amount of realness in the tapes they had on the Ark could add up to the beauty it was seeing something like that in real life.

Finn's breath was hot on my left ear. "No animals, huh?" he muttered smugly to Clarke.

There was a moment of silence. Then, a collective gasp came from the group of us as the deer turned to face us; a second head appeared, conjoined with the abnormality's neck. We all watched with hitched breath and wide eyes as it ran into the shrubbery, then took turns glancing at each other as we wondered what the hell we just saw. Earth was nothing like it was described in our stories.

It was minutes after we began walking again. Finn kept glancing at Clarke, then he suddenly said, "Hey, you know what I'd like to know? Why send us down today after ninety-seven years? What changed?"

Clarke's expression turned void of emotion, but there were several shreds of remorse and betrayal laced between her facial features.

Octavia scoffed. ""Who cares? I'm just glad they did. I woke up rotting in a cell, and now I'm spinning in a forest!" She gripped the bark on a nearby tree and spun around it, sneaking unsubtle glances at Finn to see if he was looking.

"Maybe they found something on a satellite—you know, like an old weather satellite, or it wasn't a satellite," Monty suggested.

A muscle flickered in Clarke's jaw. "The Ark is dying," the blonde girl said bluntly. "At the current population level, there's roughly three months left of life support, maybe four now that we're gone."

My father never mentioned why Jake was executed. He didn't bother to explain anything that happened during his hours as Councilman Kane, least of all to his worthless engineer of a daughter. I frowned silently to myself.

Finn took this opportunity to play on his knowledge of the shit that went down to send Clarke to the Sky-Box. "So that was the secret they locked you up to keep—why they kept you in solitary, and floated your old man?"

Clarke frowned but nodded. "My father was the engineer who discovered the flaw. He thought the people had a right to know. The Council disagreed. My mother disagreed. They were afraid it would cause a panic. We were going to go public, anyway... when Wells..." She couldn't finish the statement, so she instead trailed off. I began to deeply regret the cruelty of my words to her earlier.

Monty's expression shifted to one of confusion. He blinked. "What, turned in your dad?"

Clarke brushed aside his words. "Anyway, the guard showed up before we could. That's why today. That's why it was worth the risk. Even if we all die, at least they bought themselves more time."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "That is utter bullshit," I said loudly, my arms crossed indignantly.

Finn looked frightened. Did he have family up there? "They're gonna kill more people, aren't they?"

Octavia brushed past the boys lagging in the back, and she provided Clarke her signature expression of disinterest and disdain. "Good. After what they did to me, I say, 'Float them all.'"

"You don't mean that," Goggles said. But she did; I could hear it in the way she spat out the words so unremorsefully.

Finn stood beside Clarke, looking at her like she was the only intelligent individual in a five-mile radius. "We have to warn them."

"That's what my father said," Clarke whispered. The two shared a moment, and Finn seemed to nod in encouragement. Truthfully I did not care for what happened to the people living on the Ark, but there were innocents and I prayed they wouldn't suffer the consequences of living life in a metal boat.

I hadn't noticed that we'd come upon a bed of water until I heard Jasper whisper, "Oh, damn, I love Earth." I turned from watching Finn and Clarke to see Octavia stripping down into a plain tank and granny-panties.

Goggles elbowed Monty over and over again until he looked in the same direction. The smaller boy's eyes widened almost comically, and he burst out, "Oh! Holy..."

Finn smiled. "Ha ha!"

" _Hoo hoo hoo_ ," whistled Jasper, a large grin now situated on his lips.

Clarke was the only one against our fun and games. "Octavia! What the hell are you doing?"

Octavia gave Blondie a short-lived smile before turning and jumping into the water. A large splash emitted from where she fell in.

"Yo, Octavia, they didn't have swimming lessons during Earth Skills," I called out to her. "And even if they did, you sure as hell didn't attend them!"

Octavia giggled. "I know, E. But we can stand... Ha ha ha!"

Clarke kept glancing from her map to the bed of water. "Wait. There's not supposed to be a river here."

Finn smirked at her, that flirtatious sort of smile that has girls weak at the knees. "Well, there is. So, take off your damn clothes."

Jasper's smile went from happy and content to deathly tense. His expression lit up with fear. "Oh...," he whispered. "Octavia, get out of the water! Get out of the water now!"

I glanced at where Jasper was staring at excessively, and I gasped at the sight of a lizard-like creature approaching O with alarming speed. It jerked her under the water, then knocked her to the surface in one swift tail-swing and jaw-bite. "AAH!"

"Octavia! Octavia!" I shrieked out, throwing off my coat before running towards the edge of the river. However, before I could hop in and save my sister, Finn yanked me back by the cloth of my collar.

"You'll get killed too!" he said sternly, but I wasn't listening. Before I could think reasonably, I whacked Finn across the face.

"She's going to die!" I yelled at him, my brow furrowing into a panicked state of wrinkles as I watched Clarke push rocks into the river and Jasper shed his own jacket. Finn released me, a hand reaching up to grip his swollen cheek, but I was too frantic to care or notice. I jerked away from his grip and flew again at the edge of the rocks, pushing Jasper away and barely sparing a glance at any of the people who yelled for me to think reasonably; I couldn't think reasonably, not with Octavia nearly drowning and O's blood sprinkling the surface from the monster's teeth, not with a life on the line and everyone else fearing _drowning_ , of all things. And Jasper--I didn't want him risking his life, not when I could very well put my own in steady danger, as selfish as that sounded.

I hit the water with a loud _crash-and-burn_ effect. I ignored the feeling of pain that shot up my legs, adrenaline rushing through my veins and numbing me to all the hurt in the world, and and I quickly took course along to where bubbles and shadows appeared at the surface; then I dove down in the water, hands fighting against the current as I mindlessly felt for the devil hurting my best friend.

" _Octavia_! _Eowyn_!" came from the ground, a jumble of syllables barely legible over the sound of gushing water.

My hand grasped a leathery-feeling tail, and I quickly yanked, feeling the jowls loosen on Octavia's limb. Octavia completely broke loose, and she jumped to the surface, coughing and spewing; but I was not at the surface, instead taking the tail of the monster and sinking my fingers into its leathery-skin. I jumbled and fumbled with my fingers in the water, not having any weapons to defend myself, so I instead kicked and punched at the devil. I cried out into the water, feeling it enter my lungs through the stupidity of my own actions. It wasn't until the monster bit down on my hand and wrist, igniting a furnace of severe pain, that I realized I was fighting a losing battle.

I kicked at the monster one final time, then broke the surface. I gasped for air, coughing and sputtering, then kicked up one hell of a storm at the monster. I aimlessly—like an untrained lapdog, full of fear and needless abandon—paddled at the water, bringing myself closer to the edge where a wet Jasper cradled a bleeding Octavia, where Clarke and Monty and Finn were yelling out for me to swim as fast as I could to avoid the fate of death.

I went faster, harder, with more energy and more determination then ever; just as the monster was gaining on me, I reached the pebbles and rocks of water-less, danger-less, air. Clarke and Finn were there to pull me further in, and I gasped out as I felt myself free and safe from the monster.

"Wha—what was that?" I choked out. No one could answer me; none of us knew, or had a clue. I looked to Finn, whose cheek was red and sore. "I'm—I'm so sorry, Finn."

Finn smiled lopsidedly. "Just a scratch," he muttered.

Octavia threw her arms around both mine and Jasper's necks. "Thank you... thank you," she cried out with gratitude, looking at Jasper with newfound admiration and me with a sisterly gratitude.

"Note to self... next time, save the girl," Monty said from the sideline.

I used my hand, which was sore and bleeding, to give Monty a well-needed middle finger. "Not the time, Greenie," I said drily, and a bitter, halfhearted laugh escaped us all.

* * *

 

"You _wanted_ to go first. Now quit stalling."

Finn was holding the rope to lead us to Mount Weather. It was a big jump to the other side, and certainly, Finn wanted to play Tarzan. He gave Clarke a nervous, yet cocky smile, as though to assure her that he was just testing the grip. Obviously he was just afraid he'd lose grip and damage more than just his ego.

Octavia smiled with giddy excitement. "Mount Weather awaits!" she cheered.

Came a clapping sound on Finn's back, courtesy of Jasper. He grinned toothily at him. "Just hang on till the apogee, and you'll be fine," he reassured.

"The apogee... like the Indians, right?" Finn feigned confusion, and my expression fell into one of amusement.

Jasper rolled his eyes. "Apogee, not Apache."

Clarke caught onto his ploy and rolled her eyes. "He knows. Today, Finn," she called.

With a cheeky smile on his face, Finn saluted her. "Aye, aye, captain. See you on the other side." He got ready for his send-off, but a quick, spastic jerk from Jasper stopped him in his tracks.

"Wait," said Jasper.

"What?" Finn asked.

"Let me. I can do it," Jasper said, glancing at a smiling Octavia.

Finn stepped away, and I saw relief in the way he automatically disentangled himself from the rope. "Knew there was a badass in there somewhere."

Jasper laughed nervously. "Heh heh..." But he wanted to do it for Octavia, that much I knew. He puffed out his chest proudly.

Finn smiled. "Hey, it's okay to be afraid, Jasper. The trick is not fighting it," he said reassuringly.

Jasper nodded. See you on the other side," said Goggle Boy. He gripped hard on the rope, sparing us a wide birth of nervous scrutinizing. Then, he gave the jump a running go... and went right to the other side. "Ha ha! Whoo! Whoo! Whoo! Yeah! We are apogee! Yeah!"

"Yeah!"

"Yes! Whoo!"

"Yeah! Whoo!"

"You did it, Jasper!"

I felt very apprehensive, and I tightened my uninjured hand into a fist. A short, invisible prayer left my lips...

Finn turned to Clarke, and he grinned at her. "Let's go, Princess. You're up."

Jasper was still reveling in his excitement. "Come on, Clarke! You got this! Whoo! Apogee! We did it! Mount Weather! Whoo! Whoo!" he shouted, over and over.

I felt my body tense with anxiousness and I stepped away from the edge. I swallowed hard, not even willing to shout in glee for Goggles and his achievement.

"We are apogee! Woo!"

Then, there was a swift sound. A swift feeling. A swift cut. Clarke was at the ropes, readying to make the path towards Jasper, but she stopped and gasped. So did Monty, and Finn, and Octavia. A burning sensation ignited on my ear, and I stumbled away, a squeak of terror escaping from my throat. I blinked repeatedly, slowly looking up to find my path of vision directed towards a barely-conscious Jasper speared into a cliff's edge.

Clarke shouted, "Jasper! _No_. Come on."

Finn ushered us away, barely pausing to look at my ear in horror before gripping my arm and dragging me to the nearest cover. "Get down. _Get down_."

Clarke stared at us with newfound fear. "We're not alone," she whispered.


	3. Earth Skills, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The remaining prisoners have to make their way back to camp to recuperate from the shock of a lifetime--but they refuse to give up on Jasper.

_I BEGGED DAD FOR A NEW TAPE-PLAYER. That's what started a twenty-four-hour game of cat-and-mouse, hide-and-seek, whatever the_ hell _you want to call it. Whatever it was, I didn't want to be around him. In those twenty-four hours between me running away and being dragged back, kicking and screaming, Dad was just Councilman Kane to me. Jaha-Worshipper, Mama's Boy, Asshole Caretaker, Dickhead Kane—nicknames I found myself conjuring up in the time it took for him to find me once more. Just for asking that I get my old tape-player replaced, and being turned away, called a "ungrateful brat," told I need to be more appreciative before I'd get sent to stay with the Griffins--it's all it took. Simple as that. He was no longer my father.  
_

_I was sitting in the vents dedicated to filtering through sweet, artificial oxygen, my arms enveloping my legs as I laid horizontally. Nothing could be much worse; hell, I would have taken a space-walk or floating over this aching feeling in my gut. It hurt to know I was unwanted. He'd yelled at me over a_ tape-player _; he called me mean names, slammed cabinet doors, and threatened to give me to the Griffins if I didn't get my act together. I wasn't sure whether this was him being serious or taking out his pent-up anger from horribly-went council-meetings on the nearest person. I couldn't see the answer in his eyes, not like I usually could with him. All I saw was pure, unadulterated anger... and it was directed at me, his daughter.  
_

_Dad was never this hostile. He used to be soft with me. But Mom died, and Dad got cold and distant. When I brought my play-bunny up to him and begged that he tell me another story about Peter Rabbit and his thieving ways, Dad kicked me to the curb and demanded I find something else to occupy my tiny mind. I was young, I was fragile; when Dad told me to go away, I thought he really meant it. So I got used to leaving for longer than a day, finding my way through the vents and sitting for hours on end, just mumbling made-up endings and beginnings for Peter Rabbit's adventures._

_Today was one of those days. Except, I wasn't young anymore. I was fifteen, full of life; I didn't have a stuffed bunny on my person or a mind full of tall tales about animal characters. All I had was a tape-recorder  (less-than-functioning, but I found myself too attached to trash it) full of music a century old, and an invisible friend named Bells. And the terrible, artificial air that continuously swept me aside like a weightless tumbleweed, but I did not consider that an artifact of goodness._

_I'd never gotten the pleasure to see Bells's face, but I knew his voice better than my own heartbeat. He was soft-spoken, his breath loud with exhaustion. He was always tired, and I'm sure he had a pair of purple bags to match his fatigue. I could recognize his breathing anywhere and anytime, just based on how well I knew it, how much I'd heard it. When he inhaled, it was like a man gasping for breath to breathe, to drink. I'd never tell him this, but I found him fascinating. He was like nothing I'd ever seen. And that was putting it lightly._

_The first time he found me was that day Dad called me an ungrateful brat_ _. I was sitting in the vents, crying loudly, my old and half-baked tape-player laying in my lap. It fused slowly and crackled with a static-y resilience, playing a song I'd listened to more than a hundred times since I was given the contraption by my late mother, but I could still hear my crying over-top the music. And that's when I heard someone call out softly, "Hello? Is someone in there?"_

_I heard his breathing for the first time, then. I heard him sigh out when I didn't answer the first time, then say, "I hear your music. I hear you sniffling. So... what's wrong?"_

_"Nothing," I said back. Anything else would have wound up choked and strained. I didn't want this stranger thinking I was out of my head._

_"Doesn't sound like 'nothing' to me."_

_"Well, it's none of your business," I huffed immaturely._

_"I guess not," he said back. We sat there in silence for a few moments, then he quietly asked, "Why're you crying for?"_

_I crossed my arms and glared at the white wall ahead of me. A swift breeze came flying by, and I was quickly growing irritating with this annoying boy's presence. Why couldn't he leave me to cry? Why did he have to regenerate comment after comment, even when I made it clear I wanted to be alone—that I wanted to be left in peace? Begrudgingly, I said, "My dad doesn't love me."_

_"Sure he does," the boy insisted. "He's your dad."_

_"Then why doesn't he act like one?"_

_The boy was quiet; I was positive he didn't know an answer to that. Then he said, "Sometimes people don't know how to show their love, so... they hurt your feelings."_

_I could tell he'd dealt with this sort of behavior before. "Where'd you learn that from?" I asked him, feeling less irritable in his presence._

_My invisible friend said, "From myself."_

* * *

 

"Clarke! Come on!" Finn was talking fast to Clarke. Then his attention transferred to a frozen, bug-eyed Monty; "Monty! Come on—we gotta go!"

"Monty, E, get up!" Octavia snapped at his stock-still figure, eyes warily glancing around the overhead trees.

I had joined Monty in suddenly prancing to my feet, but my jaw was agape, and the entire left side of my face was covered in blood. "That stick... that spear... was thrown from the trees... right into the kill spot..." I started crying. "We're next..."

Finn grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me back and forth, in frantic, repeated motions. "We're going to be okay, Kane!"

Okay? Okay? I tried to shake free from his grip, but his hands were like titanium. He held me against him, and we all raced for the trees, getting farther and farther away from Jasper.

"Who are they?" Finn cried through a whisper.

" _What_ are they?" Clarke corrected, glancing behind her like an idiot.

Octavia ran beside Monty, and she looked utterly panicked. "We are _so_ screwed..."

Then, a scream. Clarke frantically said, "Jasper! He's alive!"

Finn shook his head, telling her, "Clarke, wait—" but he was too late; she was already racing for the trees, against time, desperate to get back to a guttural-screaming Jasper. "Wait, wait! Stay out of the trees—"

We got to the creek, where we'd last seen Jasper. But the thing was... Jasper wasn't in sight. And neither was the thing that took him.

"He was right there," Finn breathed, his grip on me loosening.

"No... where is he?" Monty asked, blinking repeatedly. He looked on the brink of losing his fucking mind.

Clarke said lowly, "They took him."

* * *

 

_It was on the third day we met in the vents that my invisible friend decided to ask for my name. He said, "So what's your name?"_

_If I wasn't mistaken, I caught a bit of curiosity in his voice. Or maybe it was a flicker of tones, and I was merely imagining it. I quietly said, "Eowyn."_

_"Eowyn? Like Lord of the Rings?" I detected the smile and laughter in his voice, this time something I knew I didn't imagine._

_I shrugged, even though he couldn't see it. "My mom used to love Tolkien. I have all his manuscripts in my bedroom." I felt giddy just speaking about it—something that brought me close, closer than ever, to my mom. My namesake, my closet full of books._

_"I like Tolkien, but I prefer Martin," he said nonchalantly. I tried giggling to myself, but the sound echoed all around the vent so of course, my invisible friend heard it. "What? What'd I say?"_

_"I've never even read Tolkien's books," I said, still giggling,_ _"but I've read all of Martin's."_

_My invisible friend gasped. "Really?"_

_I nodded—again, even if he couldn't see it. Then, curiosity got the best of me. I muttered, "What about you? What's your name?"_

_He said, "Bellamy."_

_Without having a chance to even ponder his name and its various meanings, I quickly said, "Bellamy? Like the One Piece character?"  
_

_Bells laughed quietly and said, "I guess." He obviously didn't have the privilege of reading manga from the Ark's archives. I'd have to show him sometime.  
_

_"Doesn't feel too good when you're the one getting teased, huh?" I asked, biting my lip and refraining from grinning like a lunatic._

_"When it's from you, I don't really mind." I knew he was smiling, and oh, what I wouldn't give to see it, just once...  
_

_That was the first time I'd ever felt affection, and I didn't know whether to be afraid of the extent of its meaning... or to smile like a loon, eager for the future._

* * *

 

Monty and Finn helped Octavia hop back to camp, but I decided to just trudge along at the end of the group. We were meant to be hurrying—whatever kids did when fearing for their lives—but I didn't see a point, especially when the cause of our apprehension was long gone, taking Jasper with it. But I supposed I could understand, however little this mattered to me.

I no longer liked this place, or the freedom it carried—not with devils with pinpoint accuracy hiding in the trees like shadows of the night. Neither did the others; I could see it in the worry drenching their brows. We were all feeling it, that detestation for the Ark and the Council's decision to send us here, to our deaths. But it wasn't radiation that greeted us; it was grounders, bloodthirsty savages. It was radiated creatures hungry for human flesh. There were two-headed deer, for crying out loud. This place was literal Hell, and quite frankly, I would rather be hiding up in the vents with inevitable floating facing the forefront of my mind than dealing with this bullshit.

Slowly, we made it back to our campsite. When we got there, I heard shouts, chanting, cheers. I quickly grabbed Octavia from Monty and Finn, gesturing for them all to rush forward with Clarke and see what the commotion was all about. Hopefully it wasn't anything serious, like a lynching or something.

"Ten bucks says Mini Jaha's part of it," I whispered to O, gently trudging along with her.

Octavia rolled her eyes, but she smiled and took the bait nonetheless. "You're on. I bet it's Murphy."

"Or both!" We shared a laugh at that.

We emerged from the trees, and the first thing I heard was Clarke yelling, " _Wells_! Let him go!" Wells had some guy in a choke-hold, a knife held to his throat.

I smugly looked at Octavia, who looked grudging to hand over nonexistent cash. However, before she could cough up a handful of invisible ones, Murphy cursed like a sailor and jerked out of Wells's hold; apparently it was him getting his ass whooped. My jaw dropped, and O said lowly, "I'm not surprised."

"Me either," I said after, because honestly, it _was_ to be expected. The two hated each other's guts.

Murphy darted forward, his own makeshift knife in hand, slashing at a matured Wells, but Bellamy came forward and put a hand in front of Murphy. He sternly said, "Drop it," to the younger boy, shoving his chest like he needed an extra serving of discipline and lessons on proper Earth etiquette. Murphy muttered something to himself, but slowly moved away from Wells; that's when Bellamy turned to face his returning citizens, and he caught sight of me and Octavia.

"Octavia... Eowyn. Are you alright?" He hurried towards us, his hands resting on our shoulders, individually. He eyed the nasty wound visible on Octavia's leg, then the gross blood and scratches gracing my dominant hand. He looked utterly horrified at the sight of my ear. Too bad Earth didn't have mirrors...

O nodded and quietly said, "Yeah," while I smiled and shrugged an indefinite, " _I don't know!_ "

Bellamy turned his gaze to Clarke, but his hands didn't fall from our shoulders. "Where's the food?" he asked gruffly.

Finn stepped a foot forward and asserted, "We didn't make it to Mount Weather."

Bellamy's eyes seemed to stray towards O and I's wounds. "What the hell happened out there?"

"We were attacked," said Clarke, a bit ominously.

Wells stumbled forward, staring at Clarke with over-dramatic concern that'd be obvious to a blind grandma. "Attacked? By what?"

"Not what. Who. It turns out, when the last man from the ground died on the Ark, he wasn't the last grounder," Finn explained.

Clarke stepped forward, staring around at the delinquents with solemn conviction. "It's true. Everything we thought we knew about the ground is wrong. There are people here, survivors. The good news is, that means we can survive. Radiation won't kill us," said the Griffin girl gravely.

Finn scoffed and muttered, "Yeah, the bad news is the Grounders will."

Wells had the expression of a curious duckling, and he looked from all the members of our party; I could immediately tell who he was looking for. "Where's the kid with the goggles?"

Clarke's expression dropped. "Jasper was hit. They took him," she said. Then, her eyes dropped to his wrist... which was barren. My eyes widened with shock. "Where is your wristband?"

Wells jerked a finger at Bellamy and company. His expression was full of disdain, now. "Ask him," he spat.

Clarke glared between Bellamy and Murphy. "How many?"

Murphy proudly said, "Twenty-four and counting."

And that was the last straw for Princess Leia. She stepped forward and loudly said, "You idiots. Life support on the Ark is failing! That's why they brought us down here. They need to know the ground is survivable again, and we need their help against whoever is out there. If you take off your wristbands, you're not just killing them. You're killing us!"

I didn't understand her need for dramatics; the Ark was obviously going to pinpoint the suspiciousness of vital signs peaking then falling altogether. They would realize that we were popping off our wristbands. But I didn't voice my thoughts on the matter, especially considering Bells and Clarke had some civil war brewing.

Bellamy looked at the delinquents, who seemed like they were listening to reason. But Bells was a hell of a speech-giver, and he could give Clarke a run for her money. "We're stronger than you think. Don't listen to her. She's one of the privileged. If they come down, she'll have it good. How many of you can say the same? We can take care of ourselves. That wristband on your arm? It makes you a prisoner. We are not prisoners anymore! They say they'll forgive your crimes. I say you're not criminals! You're fighters, survivors! The Grounders should worry about us!"

Delinquents cheered and screamed for him, saying, "Yeah! Yeah!" Murphy was throwing up a fist, as a personal salute to his authoritative leader.

I didn't want to eavesdrop, especially considering the shitty day I was having, but I watched as Finn dragged Clarke off to a "secluded" piece of land, away from the clamoring delinquents. "What do we do now?" Finn asked with worry.

Clarke said, "Now we go after Jasper."

What do you know—Princess did have a brain in there somewhere.

All of our group scattered, and I was off making my own knife from the metal of the drop-ship. It was actually pretty fun, given that you needed to scrape off metal then shape it into a point; I could do this for a living, if I wasn't an engineer. Wick would agree that this was a pretty cool career path, whittling metal.

I was so invested in carving a bunch of daisies into the end of my knife that I didn't notice the shadow looming over me until a cough and clear-of-the-throat occurred. Beside myself with panic, I jumped and let loose the _mousiest_ squeak that had ever escaped me in the entirely of my lifetime.

It was Bells, of fucking course. He laughed a hearty laugh—one that had him keeling over and holding his stomach—and I stood up and glared at him. "That wasn't funny, you asshole," I grumbled, pointing at him with my injured hand. "I coulda had a heart attack, y'know!"

Bellamy continued to chuckle, but his brow was strained with worry as he stared at my fingers. "It was priceless, trust me. Best memory of my time down here," he assured before his eyes became serious again. "I just wanted to... see if you're okay, and to thank you for what you did for Octavia. She could have died if you weren't there. Makes me feel like a shitty brother to not have come with and saved her... and look at what happened when you risked your life for her." He gently grasped my hand, eying the ugly bites and scratches aligning in between my fingers like stars in a solar system. "Needs cleaned," he muttered, arching his brow up at me.

"It's just some blood," I said with a shrug. "Blood's nothin' detrimental." 

"You could get an infection if you don't get it cleaned and wrapped in gauze," he said, expression stern. He pulled me into his side and began walking into the hustle and bumble of our campsite. "I'm taking you to Clarke. Alright?" I was ready to make a comment, but I suddenly lost my ability to talk when I felt something cold press into my side. I jumped, giving Bells the nastiest look I could muster. "What?" he asked me. I simply pointed at the thing that just scared me half to death. "Oh..."

I hissed, "What is that, Bellamy?" Truthfully, I was just angry with him for making me have a near panic-attack. I didn't give a rat's ass what it even was, but I couldn't deny my curiosity.

Bells was ready to comment but we suddenly came upon O, sitting alone on a log. I quickly abandoned my investigation on what the hell touched me, and I dropped to my knees. Once on the ground, I hugged Octavia tightly.

O smiled slightly into my shoulder and patted me lightly, but her head lifted and craned up to look at Bellamy; I knew this because I felt and heard her movement. "I'm going too, whenever you all leave."

Bellamy sounded agitated and completely final when he said, "No, no. No way. Not again."

I pulled away from Octavia and pointed at him. "That doesn't go for me, mister! I am going, and that is final."

Bells opened his mouth—probably to argue—but a suddenly-there Clarke intercepted by saying, "Bellamy is right. Your leg's just gonna slow us down."

I whipped my head to her, staring at her with confusion. Why was she here? Had Bellamy sent a messenger ahead that I needed medical treatment? The answer was quickly revealed when Clarke pointed at Bellamy and said, "I'm here for you."

I raised an eyebrow; what the hell did she want from Bellamy? Wells suddenly appeared, like a tiny, unwanted shadow, and hissed, "Clarke, what are you doing?"

Clarke crossed her arms and stared at Bellamy, a determined look on her face. "I hear you have a gun." I gaped with utter bemusement as Bellamy begrudgingly lifted the end of his shift to show a delectable abdomen and a loaded gun. "Good. Follow me."

"So that's what the hell touched me," I muttered to myself, eying Bellamy with apprehension. How the hell did he acquire a gun onto a drop-ship? That would forever remain a mystery to me. Probably had something to do with the shit he was blabbering on about before O and I left on a mission yesterday.

Bellamy smirked, apparently overhearing what I said. "What? Think it was something else?" he teased, and my cheeks heated up.

_Jesus, Mary, and Joseph..._ "Go float yourself!" I gasped out, only half-joking.

Bellamy chuckled lightly, then quickly turned back into a serious state-of-being. He crossed his arms, showing off his bulging muscles. Bells asked Clarke, "And why would I do that?"

Clarke was quick to say, "Because you want them to follow you, and right now, they're thinking only one of us is scared." Her voice lowered with each syllable.

There was turmoil—conflict—in Bellamy's eyes. But it suddenly registered in him that hey, _maybe_ Clarke was right, so I saw the exact moment where he realized he needed to go with us to save Jasper. "Murphy. Come with me. Atom? My sister and Eowyn don't leave this camp. Is that clear?"

I pointed at Bellamy. "Nuh uh, buster! I am a free, independent woman, and I refuse to stay here with a bunch of idiots! Besides you, O," I quickly backtracked, but the statement still stood.

Bellamy shook his head at me, looking unhappy with my determination to come with. "Never mind," he relented. "Just make sure my sister doesn't leave, then."

Octavia rolled her eyes. "I don't need a babysitter."

Bellamy ignored her and said, "Anybody touches her, they answer to me. Now let's go." He gave me his signature "What am I going to do with you?" look, and I happily hugged O before skipping after him. I was just happy that he forgot I needed medical attention—

Bells suddenly halted. When I looked up in confusion, he turned around. "I'm going to get some gauze and alcohol, and you are going to sit there and not complain once, or you're out from the search. Okay?"

I muttered, "Alright, Dad."

He was turning to go find the materials when I said that. He grimaced. "Please don't call me that ever again."

"Okay, _Dad_!"

Bellamy came back mere minutes later, and I sat quietly as he disinfected my wound, then wiped away the blood. Then he wrapped my hand in gauze. "Tell me if it's too tight," he said quietly, and I nodded. Then, he gently wiped the dried blood on my ear. I could tell he was curious how _that_ had happened, but he surprisingly kept himself cool and collected, not speaking out _once_. When he was done, I bounced to my feet, ready to run to the gathering group of rescuers, but Bells quickly stood. He grabbed my arm, and leaned down to my ear. "Don't leave my sight. Stay close. And for the love of God, don't try to be a hero. Okay?"

I could tell he was completely serious about this. Without any delay, I nodded. "Of course, Bells. I'll pinky-promise, if that's what it takes."

Bellamy chuckled, shaking his head. "No, no..." He grabbed my uninjured hand, and tugged me along to where Clarke and them were. Clarke and Wells were walking into the shrubbery, but Murphy was waiting like a loyal minion.

Murphy muttered, with a hint of disdain, "Since when are we in the rescuing business, huh?"

Bellamy slowly released his grip on my hand and I trudged along with them as we hit the trees. "The Ark thinks the prince is dead. Once they think the princess is, too, they'll never come down," he muttered, his voice lower than I'd ever heard it down here. "I'm getting that wristband, even if I have to cut off her hand to do it."

I rolled my eyes. "A bit morbid, Bellamy."

That caught Bellamy's attention. He glanced at me, then down at my wristband. I rolled my eyes at that, knowing exactly what he was thinking. I already knew his plan was a disaster from the start, so I didn't much mind the thought of him removing my wristband. It was a bit uncomfortable, anyhow. I muttered to him, "We'll take it off when we get back, okay? Not right now. It's on my injured hand."

Bellamy smiled. "Of course, darling." It was like he didn't know I was catching onto his plans, or his selfish reign over what went down while he was in charge. Well, I guess that was just another thing to add to my list of ever-growing problems—but this time, I sure as hell wasn't going to try and fix the issue. I was sick of sticking my neck out just due to others' stupidity. Let chaos ride, right?


	4. Earth Skills, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A group goes out to retrieve an injured Jasper, not realizing the danger that awaits them in a foreign land...

Chaos riding shouldn't have included Bellamy swinging a gun all willy-nilly. Yet there he was, throwing up two arms with one holding tight to a (hopefully) safety-locked gun, and out came the words, "Hey, hold up. What's the rush? You don't survive a spear through the heart."

Wells, eyes locked on the gun with a look of apprehension, muttered, "Put the gun away, Bellamy."

I pretended to be ignorant of their conversation. It was best I didn't include myself in places where I didn't belong. Well, actually, that was a bit hypocritical. I loved being invasive. Right now, though, was a situation where Bells was being a bit of an antagonistic douche. If I dropped in and said something, I'd be included in Clarke and Wells's cause of annoyance, and I didn't care much for further provoking them. I already instigated enough of a blooming hatred from our run-ins at the Ark.

Murphy jumped forward at the comment towards his leader, and said, "Well, why don't you do something about it, huh?"

Clarke looked back from her spot in front, an annoyed arch to her eyebrows. "Jasper screamed when they moved him," she said firmly. "If the spear struck his heart, he'd have died instantly. It doesn't mean we have time to waste."

Bellamy walked forward. His eyes were intent on the bracelet adorning her wrist. Without a thought to personal space, he grabbed her arm. "As soon as you take this wristband off, we can go," he told her, a threat behind his words.

Clarke jerked from his grip. "The only way the Ark is gonna think I'm dead is if I'm dead. Got it?" she said, this time a bit angry. Still had that same determination, though.

Bellamy smirked. "Brave princess," he muttered under his breath.

A rustle came from the shrubbery, then out popped a breathless Finn. "Hey, why don't you find your own nickname?" He barely gave a glance at Bellamy before his eyes flickered towards Clarke. He skimmed right over me, Murphy, and Wells-for good reason, too, I supposed. "You call this a rescue party? Got to split up, cover more ground. Clarke, come with me."

Clarke didn't need to be told twice. As Finn edged his way to the front, Clarke easily fell in line beside him. I could only vaguely hear words being exchanged, but they became so far away that the words became muffled.

Bellamy was standing beside me one moment, then his body was keeping pace with Wells. "Guess we got more in common than meets the eye, huh?" he asked in a low voice. I normally wouldn't have been eavesdropping, especially considering this was someone I trusted, but his words pegged my curiosity.

Wells scrunched his nose and sent Bellamy a sharp glare. "We have nothing in common."

"No?" Bellamy looked caught between laughing and scoffing at the stubborn boy. "Both came down here to protect someone we love. Your secret's safe with me. 'Course, for you it's worse. With Finn around, Clarke doesn't even see you. It's like you're not even here." His words held a sense of mocking, as though he wanted to rile up Wells. It didn't work.

Wells gave Bellamy a dark glare before roughly glancing away. He wouldn't admit it, but Bellamy was right in his assumptions. And I supposed that's what caused his gaze to look so thoughtful and conflicted.

When Clarke and Finn yelled out for us to congregate again and meet at the stream, I wasn't expecting them to both be drenched like sewer rats. Especially Clarke. But I hardly questioned the weird turn of events and appearances, and just stayed quiet throughout the follow-up of events; Clarke revealing a patch of blood at the edge of the stream, and Finn volunteering himself to track. I just hovered behind Bellamy a little bit, unease chipping away at my calm demeanor. Unlike the determination my companions were feeling, or the annoyance that I knew Bellamy and Murphy felt, I was just plain suspicious. This felt like we were being led into a trap.

* * *

Finn was leaning down, scrutinizing the ground as Clarke stood beside him. Both were silent, Finn determining the route and traces of footsteps as the rest of us awkwardly stood in wait.

Murphy was a bit skeptical. "Hey," he said loudly, looking impatient, "how do we know this is the right way?"

Bellamy rolled his eyes, looking at his "friend" with a look of equal impatience. "We don't," he said, cutting his glare towards an ever-occupied Finn, "Spacewalker thinks he's a tracker."

Wells didn't like the disdain and disbelief dripping off Bellamy's words. "It's called 'cutting sign'," he snapped. "Fourth-year earth skills. He's good."

I rolled my eyes. "You didn't even know him until we landed on this stupid planet!" I said angrily, pointing my finger at him. Bellamy's hand rested on my shoulder, pulling me away, and I nearly laughed. The only explanation for his actions was that Bellamy was wary and wanted to avoid any altercations I was bound to be part of. It was sweet, but a bit unnecessary; I wouldn't risk my dignity by taking on Mini-Jaha.

Finn's expression squared with sudden irritation, and he whipped his head to look back at us. "You want to keep it down or should I paint a target on your backs?"

I subtly flipped him off as he turned his back to us while Bellamy nudged Wells. "See? You're invisible," he muttered. With Clarke's admiring gaze locked on Finn, I honestly couldn't agree more.

My feet moved on their own accord when Finn froze, his eyes and hands locking onto a snapped twig, hanging forlornly off a branch. He kneeled closer to the ground, and so did Clarke and me. We all noticed the same thing, at different times: blood. Jasper's blood.

A low and pain-stricken groan came from the distance. Every body in the vicinity stiffened, eyes going in multiple directions.

Murphy was the first to voice a mutual concern: "What the hell was that?"

Clarke glanced at Bellamy. "Now would be a good time to take out that gun," she said warningly, and Bellamy calmly complied.

Another groan came from the same direction, but it was closer this time. It was more distinct. I quickly realized why the groan sounded so familiar; it was Jasper.

Clarke didn't wait to voice and compile a plan; she went hastily running towards the direction of Jasper's voice. Finn followed close behind, and it took barely a second for the rest of us to come tromping behind.

We hit the opening of the trees, falling into a clearing with a crucifix-like tree in the direct middle. It was barren of leaves, solely notable because of the figure hanging from it like a sacrificial human. It was Jasper, and he was tied to the tree, his arms hung tight against the branches.

"Oh, my God," Clarke breathed. "Jasper!" Finn reached for her, in a silent gesture of fear for her, but Clarke went running towards the tree anyway. Before any of us could yell at her to stop, to think twice about this ominous situation, the ground beneath Clarke went out, and she started to fall. Well, that was, until Bellamy darted forward and caught her wrist.

I ran forward and dropped beside the hole, peering in at the plethora of sharp, pointed sticks, ones that could have easily ended Clarke's life if Bellamy hadn't have saved her. I shivered before looking at Bells and Clarke, but Bells had his gaze flickering between Clarke's petrified gaze and her wristband. I knew what his thoughts were, the conflict within his eyes, and I had never felt so sickened in my life.

"Pull her up! Hurry! Pull her up!" everyone was shrieking, Finn's voice being the most prominent and fearful.

I stared at Bellamy, my eyes filled with unspoken words of anger and disgust. But I wouldn't voice them, not when Bellamy was just beginning to pull Clarke from her impending doom. His eyes looked distant, then, while Clarke's looked dull with terror; I didn't want to believe that Bellamy had contemplated dropping her. It might have been me imagining things. Bellamy wasn't like that-not my Bellamy. He wasn't.

Finn fell beside Clarke while Wells appeared beside her too. "You okay?"

Clarke nodded slowly, her gaze flickering away from Bellamy and to Finn. "Yeah," she said breathlessly, panting with exertion and adrenaline. "We need to get him down."

I stood from the ground and backed away from the trap-hole, not looking in Bellamy's direction. I stared up at Jasper, hanging there like fresh bait. I bit my life, eyes staying locked onto the leave covering Jasper's wound, from the spear. I hoped to God it wasn't poison, or this entire venture would have been futile, and Octavia and Monty would be devastated.

Finn looked at Clarke, then quickly looked back to Jasper. "I'll climb up there and cut the vines," he said, in a voice that left no argument.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm with you," Wells said, volunteering his hand at helping.

Finn's eyes were an instant alarm for the oncoming disagreement. "No. Stay with Clarke," he said, then subtly nodded his head towards Bellamy. "And watch him." I ignored the way he basically played ignorant to my presence. His head swerved towards Murphy and stayed locked on. "You. Let's go."

Murphy looked at Bellamy, and when he jerked his head in a nod, that's when Murphy looked more opening in offering his help. He followed Finn to the tree.

I looked at Clarke, and I knew what question I needed to ask. "What's that on his wound?" I asked, praying for it to not be poison.

Clarke's eyes examined the leaf before her eyes dawned with realization. "It's a poultice," she said, awe in her voice.

"Medicine?" Wells looked bewildered, to say the least. "Why would they save his life just to string him up as live bait?"

Bellamy barely spared Wells a glance as he roughly said, "Maybe what they're trying to catch likes its dinner to be breathing." He looked irritated, and maybe even a little bit scared.

I stared at the ground, knowing this was bad. Unease was eating at me, and usually, that was a sign that a tragedy dawned on the horizon.

"Maybe what they're trying to catch is us." Finn's voice echoed from his spot on the tree, like a hollow message from a radio. And though beside myself with irritation at Bellamy, I found myself shuffling closer to him. He was the only one in the vicinity with a ranged weapon on hand, after all.

"Just cut Jasper loose, so we can get the hell out of here," I muttered nervously, cutting my gaze around the valley. Who knew what was out there, hidden by the green undergrowth and just waiting for the opportunity to pounce… Before we knew it, we could be dead—and it would all be due to Thelonious Jaha, who ignorantly dropped us somewhere where there were living, breathing humans who could throw manmade weapons with pinpoint accuracy, would easily kill us, regardless of being provoked.

The cowardly part of me was frightened, but the brave part was resilient and determined to survive despite the odds. And regardless of the nervous energy driving my blood with icy dread, I'd do whatever it took to come out alive in the end.

* * *

I was sitting in the weeds, pulling at grass bundles and condensing the strands into green confetti with my fingers, while Wells stood on guard, Bellamy eyed the place warily, and Clarke stood close to the tree. Finn and Murphy were still hanging from the limbs, both boys preoccupied with staying steady against the bark and getting to Jasper's aid, and the rest of us were alert. Again—who knew what the hell awaited us when we released Jasper from his bonds? For all we knew, the Grounders could have been watching us from afar, readying to strike the moment we assumed we were out of harm's way.

Finn had already arrived at his destination, but Murphy was struggling to get up the tree's expanse. "Hurry up, Murphy," Spacewalker snapped, barely sparing the stamina-drained boy any sympathy as he sagged with exhaustion. He merely waited—impatiently, might I add—for Murphy to finally get in position, and then the boys set to work in loosening the vines holding Jasper captive.

I wasn't really paying attention to my surroundings, but I was absentmindedly entuned to all the conversations and various actions occurring around me. It was mostly just a focused effort, all my attention simmering in a bowl that belonged to making grass into confetti, but there was another part that wasn't so ingenuous. Clarke was the only one who even seemed remotely one-hundred-percent aware, but I'd say that was mostly because of Finn's current predicament. She wasn't exactly inconspicuous about her intrigue towards Spacewalker.

The girl of the hour itinerated, "Be careful," to the two, and a small smirk appeared on my lips. _Suppose that proves my theory correct,_ I internally gloated, fighting the urge to smile a grin bigger than that of Cheshire Cat at the ironic revelation.

Then, something alarming occurred. As I pulled another handful of green pasture and made to rub it into valley residue, I heard a growl. It was distant yet was close enough that a feeling of dread settled in my abdomen; the grass fell from my right hand, my left quickly reaching behind me for the knife I'd brought along with me, and I got to my knees. The others were finally realizing the evidential threat, and they all looked each and every way, eying up the trees with blatant guardedness. I noticed that Bellamy's fingers flexed as though aching to reach for the handle of his gun.

"What the hell was _that_?" asked Murphy, peering down from his spot against the branches with a look of wary interest.

"Grounders?" said Bellamy in reply, but his tone was questioning. Like the rest of us, he was just as ignorant… and just as afraid.

None of us had the right answer, and none of us could have anticipated the kind of threat we were about to be faced with. And when something snarled, and eyes appeared from within the leaves of a nearby bush, I quickly scrambled to my feet and jumped several yards back. My heart was beating fast and hard against its chamber of ribs, a cold sweat drenching my forehead. Even with the knife in my hand, I felt myself under-matched and I was selfishly desperate to have the apparent _animal_ choose a different target for its teeth. I was small and, quite frankly, a bit of a weakling. Sure, I helped save Octavia from that scary snake-like creature yesterday, but did that say anything other than that I got lucky?

I came from space, not a damn martial arts training center.

Bellamy reached across the gap separating us, and he quickly pulled me to his side. I stumbled and nearly fell, but his body saved me from my fate—and I was grateful, but certainly wouldn't admit that. I was still angry at him for his earlier inconsideration, and I doubted I'd let that anger go anytime soon—but who knows? Maybe if he continued to be my valiant knight in shining armor, I'd consider forgiveness.

What emerged from the shrubbery was something I'd never seen in all the books that the Ark carried in its amass of reading material—something black, dangerous, and frighteningly-big. Its hindquarters allowed it to jump right into the valley with us, and it snarled again. Its razor-sharp canines caused me to grip Bellamy's jacket tighter, dragging him back with me as I tried to get the furthest I could from obvious danger. The man hardly registered my attempts as he continued to stare at the beast, hand frozen on my arm.

The creature looked vicious—and it eyed its selection of prey with a look of predatory hunger, fangs elongating to create one of the most frightening scowls in the history of scowls.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," I muttered under my breath, nearly hyperventilating—and if it weren't for Bellamy's presence, I was sure that I would have collapsed. I'd never been as afraid as I was right then. And when the creature suddenly roared and began to charge around the valley, teasing us with its fast strides and scarily-long talons, I could feel the blood paling from my face.

"Bellamy, gun!" Clarke shrieked suddenly.

Bellamy quickly snapped from his daze, and he lifted his shirt to reach for his gun—but his hand didn't lift from his shirt, and he stayed in that position longer than you'd anticipate from a man on a mission. I watched with confusion and fear as Bellamy snapped his head every which way. Only when gunshots went off with spit-fire intensity from mere yards away from us did I realize why he appeared so frantic.

Someone had stolen his gun. And that someone was Wells.

Wells let off shot after shot, merely grazing the animal. Wells wasn't that good of a shot—that much was obvious—and his hands appeared to be shaking as he took aim and continued to let off shells. My breath stiffened. What would happen when the gun ran out of bullets? How many times would the beast be able to tear into us before our hearts collapsed and we were left to rot into the Earth?

The beast suddenly appeared at the front of the shrubbery again. It was right in front of Bellamy and I. We watched, with bated breath and tremoring fingers, as the creature locked its gaze on us. _We were its next targets._

"Get back, get back," Bellamy suddenly murmured, his hand reaching back to push me away—to get me from his position.

"No, Bellamy—" I cried back, and a shriek of fear left my mouth when the beast charged—

It never got a chance to taste its next meal. Wells had finally gotten a good shot at the beast, and now it lay dead in front of Bellamy's feet, looking much less frightening with a dead glaze to its half-slit eyes.

Bellamy stared at Wells, just as we all were—but his gaze was different. His gaze was strong and steely. He looked grateful, yet also bitter. _Very bitter._ "Now she sees you," he said, and it took one glance at Clarke to see that he was correct.

* * *

Considering how famished most of the delinquents were, it was a wise idea to carry the creature—which Clarke assessed to be a jaguar—back to camp with us. Although, I knew that Bellamy would use it as leverage for people to take their wristbands off. It was an obvious way of asserting his presence as the leader of the prisoners.

But there was something else about it, a hidden reason behind his desire to have the Ark think the Earth is uninhabitable. I didn't know it yet, but I eventually would. Secrets didn't have a habit of staying secrets long.

"They're back!" called a delinquent when we entered camp. I didn't know who it was, or why his sudden voice irked me, but it did, and I couldn't put even a fingertip on why.

Monty appeared next to Clarke, who was monitoring Jasper's frail and aching body. The look on his face made me pity him, more than I had for anyone in my entire life. "Is he…" the boy trailed, unable to even finish the notion. Who would want to contemplate their best friend's resting fate when the odds seemed so slim? I wanted to reach over and grip Monty's hand, reassure him that his friend would live through this obstacle and power through to experience Earth's wonders with the rest of us. But I didn't know him, and he didn't know me. So I didn't.

"He's alive," Clarke said, brushing a hand through Jasper's sweaty fringe. She met Monty's eyes with a steady, reassuring gaze. "I need boiled water and strips of cloth for bandage."

I turned my own gaze to look at Bellamy as Monty went in pursuit of the needed materials and Clarke brought Jasper to the dropship. I still felt a smidgen of resentment towards him for his cruelty and his selfishness, but another part felt the need to understand his thought process… and that same part was desperate to see Bellamy in the same light as always, as the gorgeous, brave, rebellious hero from a storybook.

Maybe he had a reason to think about dropping Clarke. To think about bargaining and blackmailing her.

"Who's hungry?!" yelled Bellamy, and the crowd burst into cheers. They called his name, reached out hands as though to prod and touch him, screamed with glee at the thought of food.

And I just stood there, watching as Octavia stood by her brother with her own look of hero-worship, an expression of admiration.

I wanted to be a part of this. I wanted to break off my wristband and join in the festivities—wanted to dance with Bellamy to the sound of imaginary music and tease him for pretending to be the one who slayed the dragon, maybe fake a fall so that I could be caught in his arms. But there was a certain sickness that gripped my heart, and all I wanted to do was lay down and sleep. Maybe stare at the stars for a while, or just fall into unconsciousness to the sound of excited delinquents eating and cheering.

I thought about my father—my stern, cold-hearted father, who was probably sleeping soundly without the constant burden of my negligence and thievery on his back. I doubted he even watched the monitors to see if my heart went dead and picture went dark or bated an eyelash when he first heard that I'd be taken from my cell and sent to Earth.

Yet, even with the memories of his hatred and anger bearing down on my conscience, I still loved him. I still craved for him to suddenly care about me again, to worry about what happened to me. I craved for his love, his attention, his affection—and maybe the reason I was truly so nasty to Clarke and Wells was because I knew that regardless of reputation and regardless of their actions taken against others, the chancellor loved his son and Abby Griffin loved her daughter.

I wasn't so lucky.

I must've stood there for far longer than I anticipated, maybe having stood in the same spot for over half an hour, because Bellamy was suddenly at my side, nudging me, and I was blinking, surprised by the line of meat aligning the nearby fire and the line of delinquents stepping up to a boulder-like rock to have their wristbands broken apart. "Ready to take that wristband off, Short-Stack?" he asked with a grin.

I pulled away from Bellamy, overtaken by a plethora of images of my father. When I was small, he used to care, showering me in gifts and love. If he came down, I had the chance to experience that again. I had the chance to fix our relationship. "I can't," I breathed, tears appearing at the edges of my eyes.

Bellamy had a look on his face. I couldn't tell what it was. Hurt? Regret? Anger? Determination? "Why the hell not?" Bells asked, and I could tell he was fighting back an explosion of words.

"My father…" I looked away. Guilt was eating away at me, and my mind was racing. _The Ark would still come down if you took it off, E,_ came a thought, slithering into my conscience with a tone of persuasion. _And your father hardly cares. The Ark is dying; they'll have to come either way. Let fate do its work. Don't lose your best friend to a father who was never there._

The voice was right. I knew it was. But I was scared that I'd lose my father and would never be able to repair our fragile stance as father and daughter. I didn't want to live with that guilt—that regret.

_You'd lose Bellamy, though, and isn't that one of your worst fears?_

I was pissed at him, for putting me in this situation, for making me choose, for doing such selfish things that bordered on near-coldhearted. But truthfully, I couldn't lose him. I needed him. I wanted him. I'd lose my sanity if he died.

After a heavy silence, Bellamy finally found the words to speak. "Eowyn… please don't do this. Don't choose your father over me."

"B-But he's my _father_ —"

"But _I'm_ your family."

I clenched my eyes shut, inhaling a breath that shook my throat and opened my mucus chambers. "I can't live a life of regrets, Bellamy. If he dies… I'll never get the chance to have someone love me again."

"He will kill me if he comes down," Bellamy whispered. "They all will. The entire Council… they will hunt me down, and they will kill me."

"I'm sure we could make my father and Chancellor Jaha understand, Hells-Bells—"

"We can't," said Bellamy forcefully, and his eyes were watery. "Okay? We fucking can't."

_Your father is a monster, Eowyn… He'd kill Bellamy if it meant putting himself in a better position… He doesn't care if his death would break you apart. He doesn't care._

I breathed out a sigh and pulled out my knife. "Okay… okay, okay." I stuck the blunt end—the makeshift handle—underneath my wristband and pushed as hard as possible. The needles hurt as they pulled from my skin, but I ignored the pain in favor of increasing the pressure. And with a grunt, the wristband snapped off and fell to the ground with a resounding thud.

Bellamy was staring at me, eyes still teary and mouth open. He hadn't expected this, I was sure. Always getting surprised…

"You can keep your stupid food," I told him, sniffling back the snot that began to trickle down my nose. "I'm not hungry."

Without a glance back, I left to the dropship. Memories of my father's face plagued me, but I soon realized it was better to avoid his hate than to meet his face and slowly understand he could never love me.


	5. Earth Kills, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truces are made, a friendship is solid once more, and the group finds there's more than just grounders to worry about...

I didn’t expect to wake up feeling like a rolling pin hit me over the head, but I did. And I certainly didn’t appreciate the moans that came afterward, nor the tumultuous shouts of prisoners that followed the groans.

          “Go back to sleep!” said one prisoner.

          Another yelled, “Quiet!”

          It was getting quite bothersome, considering my sleep was restless enough with endless thoughts of my father, the one man I always craved affection from, and Bellamy, the man who gave his all and opened his heart, only for me to ruin it with _confliction_. I knew I was not going to sleep anytime soon, not with these assholes deeming me a worthy target of their yells. I didn’t like loud voices, so this was certainly a problem.

          And finally, I had enough. “Shut the fuck up!” I screamed into the night, hearing my own voice echo off the metal interior of the drop-ship. I hoped that Clarke wouldn’t assume my scream was targeted at her nearest patient. I understood his pain—sympathized with it, even—so I couldn’t be a bitch about it, even if I wanted to. The prisoners, on the other hand, were uninjured and worsening an already-bad situation by being dicks about one of their own’s suffering. I didn’t sympathize with them, not at all.

          “Fuck off, Kane,” said a prisoner to my right, and what do you know—it was fucking _Emilie,_ my arch-nemesis. Her bruised nose was looking a little worse for the wear, and I supposed it wouldn’t hear for a splatter of bruises to complement the collection—

          “You should know better than to talk like that to me, Emilie,” I growled. I shuffled closer, using the nearest wall to shimmy myself to a sitting position. I glared at her. “He’s just a kid, and he almost died. And now he’s in pain. Do you fucking _want_ him to die?”

          “Of course not!” Emilie shot back, looking appalled at the suggestion. I admit—I didn’t expect that. “I just don’t appreciate you bursting my fucking eardrums to make your opinion known.”

          I raised an eyebrow. I certainly knew Emilie had a problem with me, but I didn’t expect for her to be the bigger person and not lash it out at the people I considered friends. I anticipated a comment about hoping Jasper to die in the night, but listening to her now, I understood she wasn’t a bad person… just that she didn’t have a filter, much like myself, and held grudges against people who socked her in the face. Or maybe that was just a one-time thing.

          “Interesting,” I said slowly, not liking the way her eye twitched. “If I allow you to punch me in the face, can we have a truce?” I knew that she’d hated me for years—for over a decade, actually—but I didn’t want her frustrating disloyalty to keep me from having a good time on Earth.

          Emilie’s own face blanched, and she looked confused by the sudden friendliness in my voice. But I noticed her rising up into a sat position, slowly, slowly—until she was inches from my body. “Really?” she said, not looking like she believed me very much.

          I grinned. “’Course! And I _promise_ I won’t retaliate—” _Crack!_ Before I knew it, I was falling over to the side, a nauseating pain fucking over my ability to breathe as my nose began to bleed heaps.

          “Sure, Kane,” said Emilie cheerfully, laying back down on her backside. Funny—she was facing my direction. It was almost like she wanted to see me drown in my own nose-blood. “We can have a truce.”

          _Forgive and forget, I suppose,_ I thought bitterly. Then I stumbled to my feet. _Hope Clarke has some damned tissues available…_

* * *

 

That next morning, I was up and ready (not to mention _eager)_ for a new adventure. I’d bribed Clarke into giving me pieces of cloth for my broken, bleeding nose, in exchange for me being nice the entire day. We shook hands on it. I think she assumed I was screaming for _Jasper_ to shut the fuck up last night, and so she was punishing me for it by forcing me to be nice. Jokes on her, though! I was leaving camp for the day. I needed a bath, and damn it, I was going to get one.

          As I walked, I noticed two opposites standing together—my favorite guy (after last night, though, I wasn’t so sure we’d be able to reconcile such a sentiment) and my _least_ -favorite guy. “Heya Bells, Germphy!” I said cheerfully, then slapped a hand over my mouth as I realized Murphy’s nickname wasn’t very _nice._ “Ahaha, I meant Murphy! Haha…” I smiled nervously, not feeling sorry at all.

          Bellamy looked like he wanted to laugh while Murphy just scowled, though the two of them stopped short of their respective actions when they noticed the cloth sticking out of my nostrils. “What the fuck…” Murphy started. It took seconds before the asshole began to cackle. “What-What is that in your… _nose?_ ”

          “It’s called ‘cloth’,” I said stiffly, my inner-voice repeatedly telling me, _Don’t be smart, don’t be smart, don’t be smart._ But who was I kidding? I couldn’t be sweet even if an entire palm of sugar-cane was shoved down my throat. “You look like you need one, but not for your nose… no, no, more like _your face_.”

          Murphy stopped laughing, and looked to Bellamy for assistance. Instead of giving him the go-ahead to kick my ass, Bellamy nodded to an abandoned patch of land a few yards away. “Can we talk?”

          “Yeah, sure,” I said, avoiding nodding since that made my head spin. I gave Murphy the middle-finger as I passed, hoping Clarke wasn’t outside to see it took mere minutes for me to break our pact of niceties. When Bellamy stopped, I kept going, walking until I was ahead and could spin around to face him. I didn’t expect the heat in his gaze, nor the gut-wrenching sorrow hidden within its honey sea. My stomach dropped. “Bells—”

          “I’m sorry about yesterday, Eowyn,” he whispered, and I felt another nail in my coffin at his tone. _How could you do that to him, Eowyn? Choose your asshole of a father over the only man who ever promised you forever and meant it?_ “I didn’t-I didn’t want you to choose between your father and me. I know how it ended for you, and I… I shouldn’t try to take that away from you. Not after everything you’ve been through.”

          “Bellamy…” I couldn’t help the tremble in my voice, nor the tears in my eyes. “I’m so sorry... I know my dad doesn’t love me. I know he never will. I see that now.” I placed a hand on Bellamy’s cheek, forcing him to lean down so that we were closer in vicinity, so close we could taste each other’s breath. I wanted him to know I meant every word coming next. “You’re the only thing keeping me grounded, Bellamy. _The only thing._ Our past, our present, our fucking _future_ is saving me from myself. I didn’t realize it then, but I know it now… my father will _never_ love me. You know it as well as I do. So to choose someone who has done nothing for me, who has never cared for my favorite books or achievements, who has never done for me as a father should, over someone who cares far more than words can describe… that is the biggest mistake I could ever make, one I’m not willing to risk.”

          I was not expecting for Bellamy to suddenly grapple me in a hug, bringing me in so close and roughly I was afraid more than just my nose would break. But I returned it fervently, hoping he knew how much I loved and cared for him through the solid rock of my embrace.

          “If you two lovers can hurry up, we’ve got a hunt to do,” called over Murphy, who was standing and smirking by the tree he kept trying to slash at from a distance. Looked like he still couldn’t get a proper handle on his knife’s throw, much like his tongue.

          I released Bellamy, reaching up to squeeze his cheek affectionately. “Be safe, alright?” I said with a smile, knowing he wouldn’t approve of what plans I had for myself, especially if he knew they involved me trekking outside of camp.

          “You too,” Bellamy breathed, an eyebrow raising dangerously as he looked at me. I saw the stubborn resolve in his gaze. “Stay inside camp and don’t go looking for trouble. Okay?”

          “You’ve got my word,” I assured, but really, my promise was half-hearted—and I think some part of Bellamy knew it, too.

          I waved him off as he went with his boys, fighting a laugh as a sulking Murphy was turned from their hunting group. Served him right for being such a dick.

          Now, it was time to suit up and get ready… I had a forest to explore and a source of bathing to find.

* * *

 

          It only took mere minutes for me to realize how bad an idea it was to leave camp without any source of company. I would have preferred _Emilie_ ’s presence over none at all. Enduring silence wasn’t something I appreciated, especially considering where I was. If I were in the Ark’s archives, I could admit I enjoyed the silence, the solitude—but here, surrounded by unfamiliar green, just a whistle away from attracting dangerous attention, I couldn’t say I liked it any more than I liked seeing those I loved in pain. This was not good, and I felt a sense of foreboding in the innocent way the forest blinked back when I stared it in the face.

          “I’m a little teapot, short and stout,” I hummed, kicking away a tree branch. “Here is my handle, here is my spout—” I stopped walking, my hand lashing towards my pocket as I realized I heard footsteps. My fingers curled tightly around the source of metal I kept there. I didn’t know the source, but turned every which way, unwilling to let myself be surrounded. Maybe leaving camp was a terrible idea after all, considering I didn’t know how to keep my fucking mouth shut—“Who the fuck is following me?”

          Nothing. Only silence.

          My face hardened, a scowl folding its way onto my mouth. _Was this a prisoner of the Ark trying to fuck with me or a grounder readying to kill me from the trees?_ I wondered warily, continuing to eye the surrounding shrubbery. I knew it was stupid to stay standstill, giving whoever it was an easy advantage if they were to decide on shooting me down, even though I damn well recognized the pinpoint accuracy the assholes were capable of, but I was looking, searching, hunting. I knew that if I tried for long enough, I’d find the perpetrator—

          “I-I’m sorry!” squeaked from somewhere, and my face turned bemused when it occurred to me the speaker was _young,_ a child almost. I turned to where I heard it from, eyes squeezing together in a glare when a little girl, no more than thirteen, appeared from behind the trunk of a tree. She was dressed the same way any of the other prisoners were, so I knew she was no Grounder and just another sad case of the Ark’s—my _father’s—_ cruelty. Shadows may not have danced around here, but that didn’t change that darkness could still haunt you in your sleep. I felt my eyes soften, just a little, heart breaking as assumption after assumption flew through me. Before I could even ask, she was saying nippily, “I just, I needed to get away… from the dying guy. He just kept moaning, and I—I couldn’t take it anymore.” I suppose that answered my first question— _What are you doing outside of camp?_

          I eyed her down, taking in the blonde hair pulled back and the innocent look she bore, even expressionless. I didn’t like how much she reminded me of a young Clarke. “He’s not dying,” I said after a while, trying with all my might to keep Clarke’s pact in mind, even though I’d already broken it a dozen times. I didn’t want to be mean to a little girl. “He’s in pain. There’s a difference.”

          The little girl shuffled awkwardly. “Sorry,” she said, looking ashamed. “I just… I’m Charlotte.”

          “Eowyn,” I said in turn, giving her a thoughtful once-over before swiftly turning. I still had a river to find and a bath to bask in; a little girl wasn’t going to inconvenience my plans. Or so I thought, before Charlotte was beside me and looking up with her soft, naïve eyes. _Fucking hell,_ I thought bitterly. “Why are you following me?”

          “I don’t want to be alone,” she said, in a voice so childlike that I felt my reserve crack. I hadn’t expected her to say something so painfully close to home.

          My eyes clenched shut, a tremor of remorse going through me, before I nodded. “Alright,” I told her. “Let’s go, then. I’m on the hunt for a water source.”

          “To wash off?” asked Charlotte, looking up at me with a smile.

          “Precisely,” I said, then jokingly added, “I stink.”

          And the more we talked, the less I felt abandoned, and the more grateful I felt that fate—in whichever form it may have been—had heard my cries for company, and bestowed on me someone to rid me of my loneliness and anxiety. I felt less regretful about leaving camp without a second notice. Until—

          “I think I see something!” whispered Charlotte, before she took off at a sprint.

          I blinked, not understanding the need-for-speed, before I was hurrying along, following after at a pace that certainly didn’t match hers. When I finally caught up, it was to see an angry-looking Bellamy berating Charlotte, an axe stuck in the bark beside her, and a stoic Atom standing to the side. I couldn’t help the bemused laugh that escaped me at the sight.

          Both Bells and Atom turned to stare at me, Charlotte continuing to look at the ground. If it were even possible, Bellamy’s expression turned darker and I felt a jolt of guilt rush through me as he stomped forward. “What the _fuck,_ E?” he said, voice nearly a snarl, as he appeared in front of me. Hs glare hardened as he saw the regret in my eyes. “I _thought I told you to stay in camp? You could have been_ killed by a grounder, for God’s sake!”

          “Bellamy, calm down before you give yourself a heart attack,” I hissed, not in the mood for having a domestic in the middle of a _radiation-soaked forest._ “We can do this back in camp, alright? But not right now, with witnesses.”

          “I don’t appreciate being lied to,” Bellamy said to me, hinting back at the half-assed promise I gave him to stay in the camp’s premises. “Why did you leave camp when I specifically told you to _stay?_ ”

          “Well, my nose stopped bleeding so I decided to go look for a good place to bathe,” I told him, blinking innocently, hoping the puppy-eyed look I used to give him as a teenager still had its same charm. Turned out, it did.

          “Stay close and do _not_ wander off,” he told me warningly, taking me by the waist as he led me back towards Charlotte and Atom. I didn’t expect or want the blush that suddenly appeared on my cheeks. The teasing look Atom shot at Bellamy’s arm didn’t help, either, and it made me want to throw my shoe at him.

          Using his free arm, Bellamy took out a dropship-crafted knife and handed it to Charlotte. “You can’t hunt without a weapon. Ever killed something before?” What a question to ask a little girl. When Charlotte shook her head in response, Bells smirked. “Who knows? Maybe you’re good at it.”

          As expected, Bellamy kept me close to his side, barely easing his grip on my waist, even when I nudged at his gut and gave him my signature _What the fuck?_ look. It didn’t work; if anything, it made him hold onto me tighter. I’m sure he was worried I’d separate myself from him just for spite if he _did_ ease his grip. He wasn’t wrong.

          I kept my face neutral as I watched Bellamy’s goons hunt. I almost wanted to force Bellamy into joining them, but I also liked the feeling of his hand on my waist; oh, woe was me, such confliction. It was certainly not the best thing to wish and yearn for, especially out there where death and destruction were both inevitable.

          Suddenly, there was a horn that bellowed. And the air felt hot and thick as a tension fueled the atmosphere. Then we saw it.

          It was a radiated yellow, leaking its way toward us fast and steadily, spreading like a fucking epidemic. I felt myself backing up, pulling Bellamy with me. Before I could even blink, all of us were suddenly running, fleeing from poisonous plague as it trailed us like a predator.

          Bellamy had released my waist now, so it was just my hand that was caught in an iron-like grip. I stumbled with him, risking back glances that would certainly ruin our lead on the following fog, and I felt regret lace itself into my conscience as I looked ahead and noticed, none of his hunting partners were to be seen. The only one in the vicinity was Atom, and I noticed him faltering, until he was tripping, until there was nothing I could do to save him.

          “Bellamy!” I said hurriedly, slamming my fist against his shoulder when he chose to ignore me and instead keep his gaze forward. “Oh my god—Bellamy!”

          We’d come upon a cave. Charlotte rushed into it with a backwards glance, and Bellamy pushed me inside, but he himself stayed at the entrance, looking out. I knew what he was searching for.

          “Bellamy!” cried Atom from where we left him. “ _Bellamy!”_

          The fog got thick, inching closer, and Bellamy was forced to fall further into the cave, until Atom’s pained shouts were nothing but a figment of our memory, etched deep in our graveyard of regrets.


End file.
